Carnival of Rust
by Maddie Rose
Summary: When she pledges herself to defend, Ilyana Rayner finds difficulty choosing between duty and desire. But when it comes to Aegon Targaryen, if you play with fire, you will burn. This is a war. Choose your side wisely. There is no middle ground. Aegon VI/OC. ON HIATUS.
1. True Colours Will Bleed

**Chapter One: True Colours Will Bleed**

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**A/N: Hey everyone! So yeah…this is my Aegon/OC story. I only own House Rayner and the respective characters associated with that. This story begins after the events of **_**A Dance with Dragons.**_

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Aegon Targaryen exhaled deeply as he examined the map of Westeros he was confronted with. It was not a far distance from Griffin's Roost to Storm's End according to the map, but he felt like it would be longer than it appeared. Another issue also stood proudly between them and Storm's End: the fortress of Penumbra. It was a small stone town, practically insignificant – but Aegon had been raised with Jon Connington's military tactics drilled into him. He knew better than to underestimate any kind of possible threat, no matter how small. Aegon's fingers traced over the southern reaches of the creased old map.

"It will make a fine stronghold, your grace," Jon informed him, leaning over the map and placing a finger over Penumbra. "It is one of the strongest fortresses in the south. Once we manage to get the Golden Company inside, it shouldn't be much of a problem to establish a base there. Provided that Lord Rayner cooperates, of course."

Aegon remained silent. Jon had spoken of Landon Rayner a few times, but even in the brief conversations, he had managed to portray the man as determined, proud and very stubborn. With a lord like that holding Penumbra fast, Aegon deduced that gaining the fortress would be no easy feat.

"Does Lord Rayner have any children? Any sons that may join our ranks, persuade him into seeing things from our perspective?"

Jon raked a gloved hand through his thinning red hair. He seemed to be getting older, Aegon noted. Perhaps returning to Westeros did not agree with him, or maybe it was something that he as yet knew nothing about. All that he knew was that his mentor was growing weaker, and that boded ill for them all.

"No sons. Only a daughter, younger than you. She is some six-and-ten years if memory serves correctly."

A daughter may also prove beneficial. Many fathers had soft spots for their daughters and would not see them harmed. Aegon nodded slowly as he processed this information, trying to think. Jon was the military tactician, but if Aegon ever wanted to truly be king of Westeros, he needed to formulate plans on his own. He heaved another sigh and set about rolling up the map. No one had ever said that this would be easy.

"So we plan to use this daughter as a hostage?" Aegon inquired. The idea was not one that appealed to him. He did not want to become the sort of king who took prisoners and use force to try and gain his allies. However, Jon had also taught him that there was collateral in every battle fought. Aegon would not like to harm the girl; however he had the upper hand in that Landon Rayner did not know this.

"We use his daughter to _negotiate_," Jon corrected, using a far lighter term. "But that's only in a worst case scenario. Lord Rayner should see wisdom and open his gates to us, especially as you are the true heir to the Iron throne."

Aegon somehow doubted that his right of ascension meant anything to anyone. As he had always been taught, it was his _duty_ to rule, not his right. While people still supported the Baratheon pretenders, or other false kings, the line of ascension mattered little. Aegon knew it was up to him to prove that he would make a worthy king. Somehow, taking Penumbra by force seemed to counter this.

"Who is Lord Rayner allied with?" he questioned.

Jon leaned against the table, folding his arms over his chest. "That's a matter of debate currently. No one actually seems to know."

Aegon frowned in consideration and Jon observed him with a critical eye. There was nothing Dornish about the boy – he was the image of Rhaegar Targaryen. The blue in his hair was starting to fade; soon it would be its true silver. At eighteen years of age, the boy was fast growing into a young man. He was tall now, well-built with broad shoulders. Jon had no doubt that Rhaegar would be proud to see the man his son had grown into.

"We may have an issue," Aegon admitted, "What is to say that Lord Rayner will not send a raven to King's Landing?"

Jon shook his head fervently. "There will be no ravens leaving Penumbra while we are there. We can have them shot down."

Aegon remained uncertain. It seemed quite an amount of trouble simply to secure a fortress. He knew that they may have need of Penumbra in the case of a possible retreat from Storm's End. Jon had informed him that the fortress had never fallen to siege, but Aegon supposed that no one had ever anticipated trickery before.

"How are we going to get inside the gates in the first place? I doubt Lord Rayner will welcome us with open arms."

"That's why we need his daughter first," Jon replied dryly, "Her, or another valuable to Lord Rayner. We would be wise to wait until a hunting party departs from Penumbra – I hear he likes hunting."

* * *

Ilyana Rayner was less than impressed. Her father had informed her that the forces of a boy styling himself Aegon Targaryen had taken Griffin's Roost, which was far too close to home for Landon to be comfortable with. Ilyana had protested strongly when he had told her of his decision to send her to King's Landing – not out of any foolish desire to think staying would make a difference, but because there was no love between the Rayners and the Lannisters. Landon did not know that he could trust Cersei, so she didn't understand why he persisted.

Ilyana weaved her way around Penumbra with her loyal shadow, Pheresa Carfield, the daughter of the captain of Landon's guard. Pheresa was only a year Ilyana's senior, so the two girls were close friends. In fact, as she had no siblings, Ilyana viewed Pheresa as the person she was closest to, perhaps even more so than her father. They shared everything – secrets, gossip, dresses. Pheresa was the only other girl close to Ilyana in Penumbra, the only girl who would choose to live in a fortress stronghold.

What a bleak stronghold it was. If Ilyana had a choice, she doubted she would live in Penumbra. It was not a pretty place, but of course Landon had no necessity for attractiveness when his town could withstand any attack. The fortress itself loomed above the rest of the town, an ominous shadow. The flag whipped in the cold, harsh ocean breeze, the grim colours of House Rayner looming above them. Even the wall that surrounded the stronghold town was thick and ugly.

Pheresa often wished for some small beauty about the place, but Ilyana had inherited her father's practical mindset. She valued the town's functionality, although it might possibly be one of the most terrible-looking towns in Westeros. Unlike her friend, Ilyana held no real place for beauty. It was something that would always wither and die over time, so what was the point? Penumbra may be a bitter place to live, but as long as it did its job, she was content.

"Ilyana." Daneal Carfield, captain of the guard, waited outside the hall when she approached. He was a man of forty years with scars on his face and most of his body. Neither Daneal nor Landon would talk about why, but rumour in Penumbra had it that he was captured and tortured by the Greyjoys during their rebellion some years ago. It was also very clear that he was Pheresa's father, both with their strawberry blonde hair and bright hazel eyes.

"What does my father want now?" Ilyana inquired wearily. She rather selfishly wished at times that she had an older sibling. Not necessarily a brother; even a sister would have done. Just someone to have taken the burden of heir to Penumbra on their shoulders better than she did. After her mother's death, Landon had seen that, as heir to a fortress, Ilyana was well versed in military tactics and the history of Westeros. Not that she remembered most of her lessons.

Daneal did not answer. He simply opened the door and let Ilyana pass, catching Pheresa's arm when she made to follow. Ilyana glanced back at her friend, who offered her a wry smile as her father led her away. That was Daneal, a mostly quiet man. His actions spoke louder than his words, which was why Landon liked him so.

Ilyana crossed the hall to where her father stood in front of the hearth. A fire was burning, but the cold stone that composed the great hall meant that little of its warmth was felt. She suppressed a shiver as she wandered over to her father, who turned to face her. They could not have been more different – Ilyana had inherited her mother's bright blue eyes and caramel brown hair, while her father possessed dark, solemn eyes and hair the colour of straw. There was no smile on his face as he greeted his daughter.

"You are still adamant upon staying in Penumbra?" he inquired. Landon was the sort of man who was very blunt about things. He did not like to waste time and as such, was always to the heart of the matter. When Ilyana nodded, he continued. "You must be prepared. There are no allies to call to our aid – the Lannisters and Baratheons are fighting a war. If this false Targaryen should attempt to attack Penumbra…"

"The town has held fast for thousands of years," Ilyana objected. She was unable to see how some boy claiming that he was the true heir to the Iron throne could bother her father so. "Besides, what use is a fortress? Storm's End is not far north of us; surely they would ignore us and go straight there if it was a powerful stronghold they sought."

"I don't know if it is power they seek." Landon's tone was grim, his eyes even more so as he stared into the flickering flames. "I don't know what they want, but I'm sure that we will soon find out."


	2. Shed Your Diamonds

**Chapter Two: Shed Your Diamonds**

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**A/N: A huge thanks to chescake, Tare-Bear and -Babyeex.X for reviewing! Hope you enjoy this chapter. To any other readers, please review, don't be shy. I haven't seen an Aegon/OC fic yet and I'd like to know how I'm doing.**

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In all honesty, it was not a brilliant day to be out riding, and Landon Rayner had not been pleased at the prospect of his daughter and Pheresa going out riding with only several guards. It had been a purely selfish decision on Ilyana's part, now that she thought about it – she usually focused on logic and practicality, but such things were hard to think about when she was crammed inside Penumbra's walls at all times. She and Pheresa rode close to home, where they could still the thick grey walls of the town, the same colour as the stormy sky overhead.

The wind seemed to lash through them, Ilyana's brown hair whipping across her face. It was not a pleasant sensation, but to be quite frank, she had always rather liked the savage side to nature. She liked watching the waves crash against the rocks, the spray rising into the air like milk-white rain. Pheresa often stated she thought nature to be beautiful, but Ilyana disagreed. She saw it as harsh and wild and unforgiving. That was her reason for loving it so.

"We should go back," Pheresa remarked, looking apprehensive as bright lightning slashed across the dark sky in the distance. If her father had been present, no doubt Daneal would have convinced her to return home, and so Ilyana was relieved that he was not with them. "It will be dark soon, Ilyana."

The darkness did not frighten her, yet Ilyana had to admit that looking up at the sky, it would soon rain. She didn't mind so much – in fact she loved feeling the cold rain on her skin – but Pheresa would often fret about her hair. Sighing, she turned her old dappled grey mare, a gentle creature that had belonged to her since Ilyana was a child and was therefore simply named Horse. She ran her fingers through Horse's coarse mane and turned her back towards Penumbra.

They had not gone far before Milton, one of Ilyana's guard, rode up beside her and Pheresa, his eyes darting around the woods. Ilyana noted the apprehension in his gaze as she glanced across at him.

"We are not alone," he assured her in a low voice, "We are being followed. If they wished us dead they would have killed us already. My lady, when I fall back to bring up the rear guard, you must ride for home with all haste."

Ilyana swallowed hard, ignoring the alarmed look she got from Pheresa. She tightened her grip on Horse's reins, her stomach churning uncomfortably beneath her practical green riding dress. Milton inclined his head and drew back, and that was when she took her chance. Throwing a meaningful look at Pheresa, she slapped down the reins, urging Horse into a gallop. The wind was harsh and icy against her skin, her brown hair streaming behind her, but all Ilyana cared about was reaching the gates of Penumbra before these mysterious pursuers could catch up with her.

Pheresa screamed shrilly as several horses emerged from the woods, seeming to erupt in front of them. Ilyana cursed and jerked at the reins, pulling Horse to an abrupt halt. The guard pulled up behind them, and although Milton reached for his sword, Ilyana knew that none of them would draw. Several of their pursuers proceeded to dismount their horses and approach, while others still aimed bows at the Rayner group to prevent them from doing anything rash. Ilyana and Pheresa echoed this movement, and Milton dismounted too with some reluctance.

Some of the men that approached them were very strange indeed. Ilyana noted them all with mild interest, in the sense that she would like to know exactly who her pursuers were. One of them was a man with a leathery face, like his skin had been beaten down by the sun. The roots of his hair were red, although it was starting to go grey.

It was the boy beside him who truly intrigued Ilyana. Observing him, there was no denying the simple fact that he was extremely handsome. She put his age at younger than twenty, but older than her own years. His hair was a strange silvery-blue, his eyes a beautiful shade of violet. Despite his youthful attractiveness, there was a hard look about his face, a steely determination as he examined them.

"Which of you girls is the daughter of Landon Rayner?"

Milton's hand never left the hilt of his sword. "Who is it that wants to know?"

"You have the honour of addressing his grace, Aegon Targaryen, heir to the Iron throne and true king of Westeros," the red-haired man said coolly, fixing his unwavering gaze upon Milton. "We have answered your question; I suggest you answer his."

Ilyana had no idea what Aegon would want with her, but she knew that giving herself up was also not a wise decision. She glanced at Pheresa, whose eyes were wide with trepidation, and immediately made a split-second decision. She stepped forward, her hands clasped and head bowed in the picture of demureness, before gesturing to Pheresa.

"She is Lady Ilyana, your grace. Lord Rayner's daughter."

If the rest of her guard were surprised, they made a valiant effort of not showing it. Abject shock crossed Pheresa's face for a mere moment, before she quickly slipped into her role, raising her chin and glancing across at Aegon. The red-haired man frowned and pointed almost accusingly at Ilyana.

"Who might you be?"

Ilyana shifted her feet. "Pheresa Carfield, sir. My father, Daneal, is captain of Lord Rayner's guard."

"We should take them all back, Jon," Aegon commented, turning to address the red-haired man, "Lord Rayner will be certain to open the gates once he knows we have his daughter."

Ilyana glanced at Pheresa, who remained silent. She subtly nudged her friend in the ribs.

"My father will never surrender Penumbra to you," Pheresa blurted, the words tumbling quickly from her mouth. It sounded to Ilyana as something passable, something she would have said with far more conviction, but of course she made no comment.

"He will," Aegon assured her with determination lighting up his violet eyes from within. "We have his daughter."

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The rain had started to pour down in icy pellets when they reached the gates of Penumbra. Pheresa shivered, pulling her cloak tighter around her slender frame, but Ilyana remained stoic. She may be pretending to be Daneal's daughter, yet already she saw huge flaws in her pretence. What if her father rushed to her, spoiling the whole thing entirely? She had to confess she was a little nervous, especially as she didn't know how Aegon or Jon would react if they were confronted with her lie.

"They're going to kill us," Pheresa murmured miserably as they waited for the gates to grind open. "When they find out the truth, they will. Why did you have to lie, Ily? It will only make things worse in the long term."

Ilyana pressed a finger to her lips and slid an arm around her friend's shoulders. "You'll be safe, I promise. As long as you're Lord Rayner's daughter, they will not dare harm you. I think it must be something to do with Penumbra. If it's true that Aegon wants to claim the Iron throne, they may want to use it as a stronghold."

Pheresa shook her head fervently. "Lord Rayner will never submit, you know that."

Ilyana wasn't so certain about that. Yes, her father was indeed a strong-willed man, but he also knew sense and accepted the bleak realities. If Penumbra must go to Aegon Targaryen, Landon would certainly prefer a peaceful surrender over a resistance that may cost lives. He had no love for the Lannisters – his support for any one king had died along with Renly Baratheon.

When the gates were open, Ilyana was immensely relieved that it was her father that strode out to greet the party and not Daneal. If the captain of the guard were present, the obvious similarities between he and Pheresa would be noticed, and Ilyana's lie questioned. Pheresa quickly snapped into action and approached Landon before he could speak.

"Father!"

Shock flared through Landon's eyes and he glanced quickly at Ilyana, who gave an imperceptible inclination of her head. Smothering his astonishment at whatever the situation was, Landon placed his hands on Pheresa's shoulders and murmured something in her ear. She nodded and drew back. Then Landon became Lord Rayner of Penumbra, his expression haughty as he set his gaze on Aegon Targaryen.

"What is the meaning of this, boy?" he demanded. Ilyana had to hide a smile just at hearing his tone. His eyes held cold rage in check that was genuine enough, assuring her that her father truly was concerned about the circumstances. "How dare you threaten my daughter."

"I haven't threatened her life yet, Lord Rayner," Aegon replied in a clipped tone, his violet eyes narrowing in a way that suggested he did not take happily to being referred to as 'boy'. "But I will be forced to if you don't allow us into Penumbra. All you need to do is tell your guard to stand down, surrender your town to my control. No one will be harmed, you have my word."

"Your word?" Landon's tone was derisive and Ilyana stilled slightly, wishing that her father would have a care with what he said. Something told her that beneath Aegon's civility there was a true dragon, and if he was angered, the consequences may be dire. "What is that worth? I will allow you safe passage into Penumbra if that is what you wish, but I will not surrender my men to your command."

Aegon observed Landon Rayner coolly. At this current point in time, he was inflamed due to his daughter being in the company of men such as Aegon's. Due to this, he would not being thinking rationally, and Aegon needed him thinking rationally before he made a firm decision. Safe passage in the town would be enough for the present. With his daughter around, and the threat that she may be put in harm's way, he was almost certain that Landon would eventually concede defeat.

"I agree to your terms. But I warn you, if you attempt to double-cross me and harm my men, there will be the blood of your own people on your hands." Aegon gestured to the blonde-haired girl as Landon nodded curtly. "Take the Lady Ilyana to her rooms. I want two of my men posted outside her door at all times. None of the people are to be harmed."

Ilyana watched as Pheresa was led away. As she was believed to be Landon's daughter, she would be kept under close guard. Pretending to be the captain of the guard's daughter gave Ilyana the advantage in that she would have more freedom. She bit back the smile that threatened to cross her lips, and deep within her mind, the cogs began to turn faster.


	3. What's Walling You

**Chapter Three: What's Walling You**

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**A/N: Again, a huge thanks to my reviewers: chescake, Tare-Bear and Azalia Fox Knightling. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I also have to thank the amazing Tare-Bear for the picture of Ilyana and Aegon she drew, which I'm using as the cover image for this story.**

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Night was Ilyana's cloak. As she was thought to be the captain of the guard's daughter, the level of security she was faced with was not high. It was Phaedra she felt for, locked in Ilyana's room with several guards posted outside her door. Feigning hunger and excusing herself to the kitchen for a slice of cheese, the plan formulating in Ilyana's mind was fed by the lack of resistance she was met with, becoming a formidable beast in its own right. When the cook saw her, he opened his mouth as if to utter a 'my lady', but Ilyana quickly pressed a finger to her lips, warning him to be silent.

"I need to use the back exit."

"Of course." The cook hurried across and slid open the lock on the door. It screeched in protest and Ilyana winced. She waited for a moment, her heart hammering in her ribcage like a battering ram, before she slipped out into the darkness. The black night would be her cover, the stars her witnesses. It was the most logical conclusion Ilyana had been able to come to with her mind whirling for something that would save them. She would ride to Storm's End and enlist the support of Stannis Baratheon's forces, telling them of Aegon's plot to attack. It was a fool's errand, but she had to believe that they would be helped.

Ilyana crept down the smallest of corridors, glad that she knew Penumbra far better than Aegon's invading forces. She peered out from behind a pillar and noticed that several of Aegon's men were chatting animatedly in front of the gatehouse. She needed to somehow distract them and open the gate. It was going to have to be a fast, precise move. If she failed, they would most likely have her head for attempting escape. Taking a deep breath, Ilyana closed her eyes and focused…before someone grabbed her around the waist from behind, clamping a hand over her mouth to prevent her from screaming.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" A cold voice asked. Ilyana could tell instantly that it was not Aegon or Jon, but she was puzzled as to why the voice seemed so familiar, yet alien at the same time. Her pursuer whirled her around, gripping her hard by the shoulders. In the dim light of the torches flickering on the stone walls, she found herself looking into the scowling face of a man in white…a member of Aegon's Kingsguard, of which there were only two.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"My name is Skandar Caron, not that it would matter to you," the man replied bluntly. Ilyana's mind whirled with impossible choices, with desperate methods of escape…and then all practicality failed her and she kneed him between the legs. Skandar hissed in pain, his grip slackening enough so that Ilyana was able to wrench free, gathering up her skirts and charging towards the steps that would lead her up to the gatehouse.

Skandar shouted something. She could hear his curses, his boots clacking against the stone as he pursued her. In reality, Ilyana knew she stood no chance – yet for some reason, she stubbornly persisted. She had just started to ascend the steps when she was tackled, her head smacking down on the unforgiving stone. Ilyana hadn't even the strength to grimace. Above her were blurring colours and an unrecognizable face, people saying something she couldn't understand. Something hot and sticky was trickling down from her hairline.

"You fool." It was Skandar, snapping at someone out of Ilyana's sight. "None of them were to be harmed, did you not understand his grace's command?"

"It was an accident," the man sputtered in reply, "I was just trying to stop her from escaping…"

Ilyana heard no more, for her vision began to fade along with the arguing voices. She let herself surrender to the void of unconsciousness, her last coherent thought being to wonder if the sticky substance trickling down her head was blood.

* * *

Ilyana woke to find herself staring up at someone with a permanent scowl and red hair. She recoiled, before the face fully swam into focus and she realised that she was looking at Jon Connington. She sat slowly and glanced around, finding herself prone on the floor of her father's main hall. Cringing inwardly in embarrassment, Ilyana found her head throbbing and raised a hand gingerly. Touching the sore part of her head, she drew her fingers back and saw that they were smeared with dried blood.

"Do you need a drink?" Jon inquired. His tone was not gentle, but neither was his voice harsh. Across the room, Aegon leaned against the wall with his arms folded, watching her with an impassive expression. Ilyana shook her head in response to Jon's question, probably not a good idea due to her aching head. She noticed that Daneal stood a little off to the side, worry etching lines into his face. She threw him a questioning look, but Daneal merely averted his eyes as though he was ashamed of something.

"We know who you are." It was Aegon who spoke, his tone blunt as he pushed himself off the wall and paced towards her. His boots clacked on the stone tiles, which did nothing to help the throbbing of Ilyana's head. His violet eyes were gleaming and Ilyana expected anger at first, however she noticed that there was almost a look of wry amusement on his face. Ilyana shook her head, looking at the ground. If her identity had been discovered, then all of her efforts to preserve them had been in vain.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Don't play the fool, Ilyana." Jon's tone was exasperated, but it was the use of her real name that made Ilyana lift her head suddenly. She mentally cursed herself for getting caught. If she hadn't attempted escape, perhaps they would still believe that she was Pheresa. However, Jon turned and gestured towards Daneal. "The resemblance between the captain of the guard and the girl you told us was Ilyana was so strong that we knew immediately that it was a lie."

"I'm sorry, Ilyana." Daneal bowed his head, and that was when the guilty expression on his face made sense. When interrogated about the truth, he must have given up the truth. Ilyana knew that she could blame him for it. The others had all been suddenly tangled in the web that was her desperate, drastic lie. Of course they had struggled for a way out.

"Your spontaneity is impressive," Jon admitted, raking a hand through his thinning hair, "However, you are to be placed under heavy guard until your father agrees to surrender command to his grace."

Ilyana stood at that, despite the fact that her head was whizzing, threatening to make her knees give way. She stepped away from the wall and held her head high. Perhaps she had gained some of her father's pride after all, for when Jon mentioned the surrender of Landon's men, Ilyana felt it was her place to ensure he knew their stance.

"My father will never surrender Penumbra to you. You are a fool if you think otherwise."

Jon opened his mouth to speak, his eyebrows contorting into a V of disapproval – perhaps at being addressed as a fool – but Aegon waved a hand to silence him. Ilyana and Jon both turned their gazes on him, a little astonished at his interjection. Ilyana did not know much about this so-called dragon prince, did not know what to expect. He could only have been around eight-and-ten, yet he possessed such natural authority. However, her real question was what he intended to do with such authority.

"I would like to speak with Ilyana alone."

It was no request, but an order. Jon looked mildly surprised, before he recovered himself and walked swiftly from the room. Daneal trailed after him, albeit reluctantly, as well as the Targaryen soldiers who had stood guard. Only when the doors had clanged shut behind them did Aegon turn his attention upon Ilyana. She straightened her shoulders and met his gaze squarely. There was no point in feigning modesty when he knew the truth of her identity.

"Yes, your grace?" Ilyana inquired, with just the slightest bit of sarcasm on the last two words. She did not quite mean it – normally Ilyana was the sort who thought carefully before she spoke. But her head was throbbing and her irritation was growing difficult to conceal. Aegon noted this and his violet eyes narrowed.

"I do not appreciate being mocked or made a fool of."

Now Ilyana did not know whether he was talking about her mocking words, or the fact that she had pretended to be a commoner and nearly made it up to the gatehouse. Aegon started to pace, which she quickly took as a sign of agitation. Ilyana took the opportunity to tuck her hair forward to cover the dried blood caking the side of her head. She would certainly have questions for whoever had knocked her down.

"Are you speaking about my attempt to escape?" she inquired, a little tentatively.

"No." Aegon's eyes burned violet fire as he stopped his pacing to whirl around and glance at her. A good thing, too – she worried that he may wear out the stone floor if he continued at such a rate. "I am speaking about switching place with Ser Daneal's daughter and having her pretend to be you."

In fact, Aegon had viewed the ploy as rather a clever one. It sounded like something Jon would approve of – and in fact, he had. When Ilyana had been brought to them unconscious, and her true identity revealed, Jon had reluctantly admitted that the girl was more intelligent than he had first thought. However, he would not tell Ilyana this to puff up her pride and make her even more sure of herself. When she did not respond, Aegon sighed and raked a hand through his silver hair in frustration. Jon had assured him that Landon Rayner would yield. Now it would seem that Landon was just as stubborn as his daughter.

"You should convince your father to surrender Penumbra," Aegon said finally, his tone less sharp than before. "It would save him a lot of grief. If he attempts to defy us, he will find himself in a very difficult position."

Ilyana shook her head fervently. It was not out of pure bullheadedness that she refused – it was because she knew her father. Penumbra was as precious to him as any first-born son would have been. While a placid surrender may have been the most sensible, Landon had already condemned that option so far. She thought perhaps her father would hold on to the fortress town out of a pure love for it. If it was up to Ilyana, she honestly could not say what she would choose. It was like being caught at the crossroads and not knowing whether to go left or right.

"He will not give it up."

Aegon scoffed. "That's what they all say at first. But words of defiance are nothing. Even stone walls break, even your father's. His barriers will crumble once he sees the benefits of joining us. I am not an evil man, Ilyana. I do not seek to harm you and your people. I only seek to use Penumbra as a military base and have your father swear fealty to me. Surely Lord Rayner realises this."

"I'm sorry, your grace." Ilyana heaved a sigh. "I cannot help you."

* * *

Ilyana gazed out of the window as an ugly dawn broke over Penumbra, bringing with it storm clouds and deep orange skies. Jon had quickly informed her of the rules, which struck her as odd considering that it was her home, even if she was a prisoner in it. She was only permitted to leave her room for several hours a day, and even then it was under heavy guard. The only other person allowed inside the room with Ilyana without guards was Pheresa. Personally, Ilyana was glad that they were not perceived as a major threat.

"Do you not find his grace handsome?" Pheresa asked, stifling a yawn as she worked the brush through Ilyana's unruly brown hair. She sounded almost dreamy, and rather than agreeing, Ilyana was forced to suppress her disgust. What did Aegon's appearance have to do with _anything_? It was of no value whatsoever.

"To be honest, I do not find his grace's attractiveness, or lack thereof, to be of any particular relevance," Ilyana replied. Her tone was slightly biting and she immediately wished her words had been softer. It had been a long night, one in which she had got very little sleep due to her escape attempt. It had been a long few days, if truth be told. Having the Targaryen forces inside the walls of Penumbra was daunting.

"So you think that Aegon Targaryen is unattractive?" Pheresa inquired disbelievingly, setting down the brush. Ilyana honestly didn't see why she persisted on the same dull topic, especially when she had made clear that the matter was completely irrelevant. She felt a sting of irritation prick at her like a needle, but it was washed over with a wave of tiredness. Ilyana yawned.

"It's of no consequence." She braided back her hair and clambered into her bed. Pheresa noted the dried blood on the side of her head with wide, worried eyes. The next thing Ilyana knew, the wound was being dabbed at with a wet cloth. She said nothing, however – lessons with Daneal had accustomed her to cuts and bruises. "I would like to sleep, Pheresa."

"Sleep?" Pheresa repeated, "Ilyana, it's dawn."

"I know." Ilyana grumbled, curling onto her side and drawing the blankets around herself. "But the dragon prince – or king or whatever they are calling him – and his allies have ensured that I have had a dismal amount of it."


	4. Overlook This Taint

**Chapter Four: Overlook This Taint**

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**A/N: Thanks as always to my reviewers: Total Targaryen, Tare-Bear, Azalia Fox Knightling, Harajuku Flowers and the guest.**

* * *

Landon Rayner watched warily as Jon Connington paced before him. Aegon stood a little off to the side, his hands clasped behind his back. Much as he wanted to deny it, Landon could see that the boy was a true Targaryen. There was a fire burning with those violet eyes of his, and although he had not known Rhaegar well, he was told that the boy was the image of his father. While he sat in his broad-backed chair that indicated his office, Landon was well aware that he held very little power in Penumbra anymore.

"Were you aware that your daughter attempted to escape last night?" Aegon questioned, to which he received a baffled look from Lord Rayner. Clearly, while the man had known of the scheme Ilyana had set up, he had not known of her attempt to escape.

"No," Landon was astonished, "What do you mean? She was in her rooms the entire time…"

"I mean the _real_ Ilyana," Aegon cut him off, giving him a hard stare that indicated his displeasure at being taken for a fool. "I know of the ploy that occurred and let me tell you, Lord Rayner, I will have no more of either your games or hers. I still require the surrender of Penumbra, and your daughter has been disobedient."

If the two facts did not add up in Landon's mind, Aegon would know for certain that he was a fool. However, it dawned in Lord Rayner's eyes and a shocked expression crossed his face. Aegon folded his arms and raised his eyebrows, waiting in silence for the man to say the words that would determine the fate of his people.

"I will not condemn Penumbra," Landon replied, but there was a lack of confidence in his voice, a slight wavering in his resolve that had not been present before.

"Is that so?" Aegon observed him mildly. "Well then, perhaps I shall reconsider my decision not to have Ilyana punished for her insurrection."

The cogs were starting to tick in Landon's head. Aegon could see a sheen of sweat across the man's brow and already he knew that he had won. Landon did not want to accept defeat, but it was inevitable. He would never sacrifice the wellbeing of his only child, of perhaps more of his people to come, just to hold onto his pride. He sighed, his shoulders slumping, and Aegon had to work hard to keep the triumphant smile from tweaking at his lips.

"By my order every man, woman and child in Penumbra must submit to the authority of Aegon Targaryen." Landon's voice was heavy, his expression resigned. "This is a command given by myself, the Lord of Penumbra, and this oath I do solemnly swear on pain of death."

"Very well." Aegon kept his composure. It would not do to look like an excited little boy who had finally got his way. He offered Lord Rayner a tight smile. "Thank you for your cooperation, my lord. I can assure you that neither you, your family or your people will come to any harm."

* * *

Her breath fogged in front of her in the frigid morning air, and the dagger in her hands left a freezing metallic tang that stung her fingers. She nearly dropped it, but held fast. Daneal observed her grip keenly, although he already knew that it would be correct. After all, Ilyana had been holding a dagger for years now. It was not a fighting measure – the girl simply knew how to defend herself. Landon had deemed it practical that, considering his lack of male issue, at least his daughter should know anything that a male heir would.

Ilyana did not fight and her father did not intend her to. In her younger years, she had expressed a desire to move on to bigger weapons such as the sword, but Landon had always forbid it. A stiletto blade was small and quick. You could stick it between someone's ribs before they even knew what was happening. As heir to a fortress such as Penumbra, Ilyana knew that her position was precarious. People would want to use her for the town and if they could not, they would try and kill her. Her lessons were an attempt to teach her how to counter such a threat.

"Come on, strike me," Daneal said, and Ilyana obliged. She made a quick lunge with the dagger and when her move was blocked, she stepped back and spun around, trying a different angle. She could never best Daneal, but sometimes she did manage to land strikes on his person. Ilyana was quick and agile due to her smaller size, and Daneal had always informed her that those were her greatest weapons.

She laughed when she missed, spinning and slashing out, managing to cut a thin line on Daneal's arm. Observing the girl who was usually so reserved and demure, he had to admit that when she was fighting, Ilyana let go of all the emotions she was attempting to keep locked away inside herself. It was almost refreshing to see that Lord Rayner's daughter was not a hollow shell after all.

"Do you think they will kill me?" Ilyana inquired, sitting down and trying to slow her breathing after such exertion. She wore one of her looser dresses when she practised with Daneal, one that flowed around her like water and made movement simple. Daneal stowed his blade and watched as she smoothed out her clothes. He was not a talkative man, but when Ilyana asked questions, he could not help but feel that somehow it was his responsibility to answer.

"You mean for your escape attempt?" He sighed heavily when she nodded. "Ilyana, the dragon prince would not punish you for something like that."

Ilyana shrugged. She would like to believe that, but she also knew that Aegon was determined to get her father to surrender. If he did not, he may hold up the fact that she had rebelled and threaten her father with that. She raked a hand through her brown hair, surmising that she would have to have Pheresa draw her a bath when she returned to her rooms. It was difficult enough to leave her room, and she had only been permitted time alone with Daneal because she had informed Jon that they were discussing methods in which to get Landon to give up Penumbra.

The door opened, a creak betraying the movement. Ilyana quickly hid her dagger among her skirts. She was not stupid enough to think she could attack one of Aegon's men with it, but it may be useful to keep it on her person for the future. Jon entered the room along with several others, glancing suspiciously between Ilyana and Daneal. Ilyana rose to her feet when she noticed that several of the men accompanying Jon were her father's.

"What is going on?"

"Your father has surrendered Penumbra." The words were blunt from Jon's mouth and Ilyana found herself liking him only a little in that moment. He was the sort of man who did not procrastinate and for that she was grateful. Ilyana should have been astonished at her father's surrender, but like everyone else in Penumbra, she had known that it would only be a matter of time. "You are to return to your rooms, Ilyana. Ser Daneal, with me."

Ilyana was slightly baffled as to why Jon wished to speak with Daneal, but she knew better than to ask about issues that were not her concern. She consented to be led back to her rooms, where she had Pheresa draw a hot bath before helping her with her dress. Ilyana closed her eyes and sunk into the water with no care for how it scalded her skin. Her father had surrendered Penumbra. What was to become of them now?

* * *

Ilyana felt frustrated that even taking a turn about the castle with Pheresa, she was hemmed in. Not only did Aegon's men watch her every move, but now her own men were charged with making sure she remained suppressed. Gazing down over the town, she had thought things would perhaps look more different. Yet nothing had changed. It was as if the loss of her father's power in Penumbra meant nothing. It was somewhat disturbing to her, and she did not even notice that she had tightened her grip on Pheresa's arm until the other girl winced.

"Sorry," Ilyana murmured.

"It's alright." Pheresa smiled mischievously and leaned closer. "Have you noticed Ser Skandar Caron?"

Ilyana did know of him. He was a member of the Kingsguard, the only other aside from Rolly Duckfield. It had been he who had prevented her escape attempt. She supposed he must somehow be related to Lord Bryce Caron, who had been a staunch supporter of Renly – until joining Stannis.

"I know of him," Ilyana replied dryly, recognising Pheresa's tone all too well. Clearly she had shown an interest in this Skandar Caron.

"He is quite good looking." Pheresa tossed a glance over her shoulder. "However, he shows no interest in me."

Ilyana could not help but roll her eyes. "Pheresa, he is a member of the Kingsguard. They are not permitted to take wives or have children."

"Oh." Pheresa sounded disappointed and Ilyana dearly wished she could slap some sense into the older girl. Pheresa had always been the romantic sort, who showed much interest in handsome men. Ilyana had never had much patience for this aspect of her friend's personality. "How disappointing. Besides, he would probably like you better anyway."

Ilyana sighed heavily. Why must they speak of such things? She had no interest in any of these men. Why would she, when they had taken her town? Sometimes Pheresa could be so blatantly uncaring about what was occurring around her. Ilyana wished she could have more male friends. They would be more sensible.

"Why is that, Pheresa?"

"Because you're always the prettier one, of course," Pheresa replied, with a sour note in her voice. Ilyana was surprised at her words, and also at how little they mattered. Beauty was something that Pheresa focused on too much, but what need was there for beauty when Penumbra was no longer theirs?

* * *

Jon Connington was not a happy man. While Penumbra may have surrendered, it seemed that Lord Rayner's daughter had not. The girl had attempted to hide the dagger in her hand, but Jon had seen the small silver glint and had his own suspicions about what had been happening. Daneal was captain of the guard, so it would make sense if he was the one teaching her how to wield the weapon. They entered the great hall, where Aegon had so kindly allowed Landon to retain his seat. Of course, all of them knew that despite his proud, stiff demeanour, the Lord of Penumbra held very little real power anymore.

"I believe that Ser Daneal is instructing Ilyana how to use a blade in accordance with Lord Rayner's will," Jon told Aegon abruptly as he swept into the hall. The boy's violet eyes narrowed as he glanced from Landon – who kept his head down – to Daneal, who was straight-backed and defiant.

"What?" Aegon asked sharply. "You mean she knows how to use a sword?"

Jon scoffed at the notion. "Hardly, your grace. Only a knife."

Aegon was not sure now if Ilyana posed a danger. She had fought back last night when Skandar had caught her and now it seemed he knew the reason why. The girl was quick on foot, but it was rather disconcerting to know that she was also proficient in the use of a blade. He turned to face Daneal.

"How long have you been teaching Ilyana?"

Daneal shifted his feet and released his breath in a sigh. "Four years, your grace."

"Four years," Aegon repeated, keeping all astonishment from his tone. The girl would certainly know how to use a dagger after such a time, with great proficiency no doubt. Although she was merely six-and-ten and female, Aegon knew better than to underestimate her. Underestimation could often be dangerous.

"Do you believe her to be a danger?" Jon asked Aegon, in a low voice so that the others would not hear.

Aegon sighed heavily. He did not _know_ Ilyana. She had attempted to escape, but that attempt had been suppressed. Even if she did pose a threat, it was not a severe one. She was, after all, one girl. Landon Rayner had surrendered Penumbra – if he had not, perhaps Aegon would care more about the fact that his daughter had been trained in military strategy and how to use a weapon, small though it might be.

"If ever she was a threat to us, Jon, I do not believe she is any longer."


	5. Rain On My Parade

**Chapter Five: Rain On My Parade**

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**A/N: Thanks as always to my reviewers: Team Renly, chescake, .saxon, Tare-Bear and Total Targaryen. This chapter is where things start to get…interesting.**

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Aegon picked up the dragon piece and placed it on Storm's End. With Penumbra securely in his keeping, he had set his sights on taking the Baratheon hold. With Lord Rayner's men, he was confident that he could accomplish such a manoeuvre. Jon watched him with a shadow of concern crossing his weathered face. He had grown to care for the boy as if Aegon was his own son.

"Are you sure that you wish to lead the attack, your grace?"

Aegon glanced across at him sharply. He could hear the worry in Jon's tone and for some reason, it irritated him. Perhaps it was because he was a man grown, and tired of being treated like a child. He had proven himself by taking Penumbra, yet still Jon was reluctant to let him embark on the march to Storm's End. How could he call himself a King if he cowered behind the might of his troops and relied on them to do his work? No, he was the blood of the dragon, and he would never shy from a battle.

"Of course I'm certain. We have discussed this, Jon."

Jon could hear the steel in Aegon's voice and he knew that he was looking upon a true Targaryen. The flames would come for Aegon, yet he refused to burn. He was perhaps a bit too proud, but that was every young man's flaw. With age, the boldness would morph into a more cautious approach. A sudden knock at the door made them both turn.

"Your grace." Skandar Caron entered and bowed deeply, his white cloak billowing out behind him before he raised his head. "There is grave news, I fear."

Aegon turned to face him, a thousand fleeting ideas rolling through his mind before he decided it was best to let Skandar speak rather than attempting to guess what the problem was. He nodded and gestured for Skandar to continue. The man let out a heavy sigh and raked a hand through his dark hair.

"I fear that Ser Daneal Carfield and his daughter Pheresa have managed to escape Penumbra. Three of our men were killed attempting to stop them. It's believed that they are making their way to King's Landing."

"What?" The word burst from Aegon's mouth before he could stop him, furious and indignant. He couldn't help but feel that this must be another ploy by Landon Rayner or that conniving daughter of his. Why else would the Carfields have been so desperate to escape Penumbra, if not to get word to the Lannister usurpers in King's Landing? Aegon clenched his hands into fists, unclenched them again. It would do him no good to lose his temper.

"I want them followed, is that understood?" He glared at Skandar. "I want them brought back to Penumbra, alive and unharmed. As for Lord Rayner and his daughter, rouse them from their beds immediately. I think it's time that we got to the bottom of this and stamped out this little insurrection of theirs."

* * *

Ilyana woke to shouts and people hurrying up and down the corridor. She rubbed at her eyes and lit a candle, venturing into the adjourning room that was Pheresa's. The dim candlelight cast a waxy yellow light around, the corners coming into sharp relief. A sudden gasp escaped Ilyana's mouth when she found that the curtains were billowing in the cold night wind, the window having been left open. The sheets of Pheresa's bed were thrown back, but there was no sign of her friend anywhere.

"Pheresa?" Ilyana questioned, rather stupidly she thought a moment later, because it was quite clear what her friend had done. She tasted bitterness in her mouth, like she'd eaten a lemon. Pheresa had managed to escape, but hadn't bothered to wake her. It was the taste of betrayal, Ilyana surmised. The wind from outside made the candle in her hands flicker and die, plunging her into darkness.

The door clanged open and Ilyana whirled around to see Aegon and his men in the doorway. The dragon prince's violet eyes glittered with fury and Skandar moved forward, seizing Ilyana by the arm. Putting the pieces together, Ilyana realised that Aegon must believe that she had helped to engineer Pheresa's escape. She bit her lip as she was dragged none too gently out into the corridor.

"Do we have Landon?" Aegon inquired as Jon strolled down the hall towards them. Ilyana saw no point in attempting to resist, especially when her struggles would only determine her guilt in Aegon's eyes. She retained her calm, glancing from Aegon to Jon.

"What's going on?"

"Ser Daneal and his daughter have escaped." Jon turned on her, his hard eyes echoing Aegon's belief that she was somehow responsible for this event. Ilyana suppressed her shock. Daneal had escaped as well? He and Pheresa both…and they had not told her. The betrayal starts to sting more, intensifying from a needle prick to a burn. Of course, it made sense they thought she had played a part in this event considering her previous attempt to get away. Ilyana acknowledged grimly that her brief flight may have condemned them.

She remained silent as she was tugged into the great hall, where more of Aegon's men had retrieved her father. Landon was forced to his knees as Aegon marched over, his eyes like violet fire. Would the flames burn them? Ilyana supposed she would just have to wait and find out. He did not seem to be a violent young man, but it was clear that he was irate at the fact that the Carfields had managed to slip past his men.

"Where did you tell them to go?" Aegon demanded, folding his arms across his chest. "What did you tell them to say?"

Landon's expression was baffled. "I haven't the slightest clue what you're talking about."

Ilyana wasn't aware if her father was lying or telling the truth, but if he was deceiving Aegon, he was doing a good job of it. Aegon bared his teeth, eyes flaring. He certainly believed that Landon was lying.

"I am speaking of the Carfields, Lord Rayner. Or do you expect me to believe that they escaped Penumbra of their own accord, without any instruction from you?"

Hurt flashed across Landon's face and Ilyana recognised it as the betrayal that she had felt all too clearly. The Carfields had not fled to King's Landing to seek help. They had escaped of their own accord, without notifying anyone else. Ilyana hadn't even realised she had clenched her hands into fists until her nails cut tiny crescents into her palms.

"You deny that you ordered them to King's Landing?" Aegon persisted.

Landon nodded fervently. "I do, your grace. I was not aware of this treachery."

Ilyana could tell by Aegon's expression that he still did not believe Landon. He glanced at Skandar Caron and inclined his head. Landon's eyes widened as Skandar crossed over to Ilyana, reaching into his belt to draw a dagger. Ilyana tensed, but otherwise betrayed no emotion when Skandar pressed the blade to her throat. It had a cool, metallic tang that made her want to recoil, but she did not move.

"What are you doing?" Landon sounded alarmed, his eyes widening as he struggled to comprehend. "How dare you threaten my daughter. I had your word, Targaryen. You said that no one would be harmed."

"Yet you have hardly been compliant." Aegon's tone was cold and clipped. "I want the honest truth, Lord Rayner. What did you tell the Carfields? Why were they sent from Penumbra?"

Landon was starting to look panicked now. Ilyana had hardly ever seen her father lose his cool, yet with sweat shining across his brow, there was no doubting that he had absolutely zero control over the situation. He took a deep breath that rattled through his lips, swallowing hard and squeezing his eyes shut.

"I swear on my wife's grave, I did not know anything about this."

"He's telling the truth." For a moment, Ilyana was not aware that it had been her to have spoken, until she saw that everyone had turned to glance at her. Aegon raised his eyebrows, and Skandar stepped back, causing Ilyana to breathe more freely. She did not mind daggers; she just didn't like it when they were pressed to her throat.

"So you know something?" Aegon inquired.

She sighed heavily. "Just because I speak out, it doesn't mean I am more knowledgeable on the subject than my father. I believe that the Carfields fled to save their own skins. They did not do it for Penumbra."

Aegon's expression remained mistrustful and Ilyana's mind raced. She needed to prove that they could be trusted. If Aegon was suspicious of them, anything could happen. The slightest slip-up could result in them losing their heads. The dragon prince was paranoid due to the Carfields' betrayal, but Ilyana felt the obligation to show their innocence. Only – how could you prove guilt or innocence? Their words were clearly worth nothing, yet she had always been aware that actions spoke louder than words.

"We are loyal to no king," Landon called, clambering unsteadily to his feet. "Renly Baratheon is dead and we hold no love for the Lannisters."

Aegon's lip curled. "Don't try and tell me that you will swear to me. I wouldn't believe you could unbend your pride enough."

"Perhaps he couldn't." Ilyana was almost detached from what she was doing, what she was saying. She walked over to Aegon, her bare feet skimming across the stone floor. Everyone watched her with astonishment. "But I can."

"Ilyana…" Landon watched his daughter with a mixture of shock and curiosity. "What do you think you're doing?"

"The right thing." Ilyana now stood right before Aegon. He was taller than she had thought. She glanced up at him with determined eyes. She had always known that she would do her duty in life, but up until now, she had thought her duty would be to marry. Now, Ilyana saw everything more clearly. She was not meant to be a blushing bride at all. She had been raised learning military tactics, history…she was meant to be a soldier.

Aegon watched in confusion as Ilyana knelt in one fluid movement. She bowed her head, brown hair falling around her face. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest as she wondered if she had made the right decision, or simply condemned herself. She glanced up at him, her expression serious.

"I pledge myself to your service, your grace. If you will have me, I swear a lifetime of servitude in your Kingsguard."

Aegon was still completely baffled as Ilyana remained on one knee, waiting for his verdict. Shock was written all over Landon's face as he watched his daughter. The only person who didn't take her actions with the serenity of the others was Jon Connington. He glanced at the slender girl at Aegon's feet, who had sworn herself to the Kingsguard to defend him, and burst out laughing.


	6. Darling Deadweight

**Chapter Six: Darling Deadweight**

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**A/N: Thanks to my reviewers: Tare-Bear, chescake, madthesaxon and Total Targaryen.**

* * *

"You do not know that she can be trusted," Jon Connington hissed in Aegon's ear, his words sharp and suspicious. The silver-haired dragon prince rubbed at his temples wearily. Anyone would almost think that it had been his decision to have Ilyana kneel before him and pledge herself to his Kingsguard. Well, it hadn't been, and he had not the slightest idea what to do about the situation. The girl had been sent from the hall while they discussed the matter, but Aegon knew that Jon would never accept Ilyana as a member of his Kingsguard.

"Of course we don't know," Aegon replied heavily, "Perhaps she really thinks that this is the way to patch up the mess."

Jon scoffed. "You and I both know better than that, your grace. Ilyana is not stupid. She is in fact a very intelligent girl and that is what worries me. I feel that she may have an ulterior motive, that joining the Kingsguard may be her plan to grow close and then slip a knife between your ribs."

Aegon winced. Talking about being stabbed was not a pleasant topic. Somehow, he did not believe that was what Ilyana wanted. She had attempted to escape Penumbra, not attack them. She was not foolish enough to believe she could harm him and live. However, he had seen not hint of betrayal in her eyes when she had bent the knee. Perhaps he was being naïve, but he saw this as Ilyana's attempt to fix the botched relationship between Aegon and Lord Rayner due to the departure of the Carfields. She was trying to make amends…he just wasn't sure if she knew how much she was giving up in the process.

"I have an idea."

Jon glanced across at Aegon. "What is this idea?"

"I want you to find out what her weapon of choice is." Aegon drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the arm of the seat that had once been Lord Rayner's. "Get whatever weapon it is that she wants, and bring her back in here."

Jon's leathery face registered nothing but astonishment. "Your grace…"

"I would also like Skandar Caron in here, fully armoured." Aegon looked right at his mentor and father figure, and a smile tweaked at the corner of his lips. Jon saw it then, the boy he had never had the chance to be, hidden beneath the heavy burden of being the true King. "We are going to have a duel."

* * *

Ilyana didn't much like armour. It might protect her from being run through with a sword, but at the same time, she may even be able to dodge such a blow without the armour on. It was thick and bulky and it weighed her down. While able to protect her from enemies, it slowed her own movement. However, when she had been confronted with the proposition of duelling Skandar Caron to prove that she would be worthy of a place in the Kingsguard, the Rayner pride had risen within her and she had not been able to say no. So she supposed she would just have to make do with wearing armour.

"Knives?" Ser Skandar did not appear pleased by Ilyana's choice of weapon, and he glanced at Aegon with raised eyebrows as though expecting him to mirror his disdain. "Your grace, you expect me to fight a little girl whose weapons are _knives_?"

Ilyana pressed her mouth into a hard line. That stung for several reasons. The first was probably that he had called her a little girl, when she was six-and-ten years and knew that her height would surpass five foot six. She may be slender, but she was not overly so and still possessed a woman's curves. What exactly about her was worthy of being deemed _little girl_? The second was that he immediately showed contempt for her. He already thought he had won, and they had not even fought.

Ilyana clenched her hands tighter around the two knives she held in her hands. Daneal had always informed her that knives were especially good because they could be use like an extension of the hand. Swift, sharp movements were what counted when it came to wielding knives. She paused, wondering why she even trusted that. Daneal had betrayed her. How did she know that everything before that hadn't been a lie?

"I am no child, Ser Skandar," she retorted coldly, her eyes narrowing. "But if you don't wish to fight me, I understand."

Ilyana knew that her words would work, because she was counting on the man's pride. His expression darkened and she knew, restraining a smirk, that she had placed her bets right. Skandar drew his sword, a huge thing that Ilyana knew she would have no chance of wielding with two arms let alone one. He raised his eyebrows and examined her critically as she circled him.

In all honesty, Ilyana didn't like this situation. She felt that she was been unleashed like some kind of rabid animal, to see what sort of damage she could do. She had always been taught that fighting was either on the battlefield, or to defend a life. This happened to be neither, but she lunged all the same, twisting and slashing. Skandar raised his sword quickly, and there was a clang of metal on metal as her daggers made contact with the blade.

Ilyana spun, whirling to face him. She had learned to never turn her back on an enemy, to never keep your eyes off them. An ill-timed blink could be the difference between life and death. Skandar stepped back, his white cape swirling around him like milk, before he lunged forward again. Ilyana was smaller, and therefore faster. She wheeled out of the way of the attack and managed a nick on the man's arm. He hissed, his countenance darkening now that she had drawn first blood.

Skandar slapped the flat of his blade across her wrist, resulting in her dropping one of her knives. Ilyana examined the fallen knife, but knew that it was too high a risk to try and duck to grab it back. She would just have to make do with one. He sliced at her again and she staggered back, nearly losing her footing. Skandar swept his foot in a wide arc, sweeping her feet out from underneath her. Ilyana's remaining knife clattered to the ground as she hit the stone floor.

She was breathing heavily, lying flat on her back. A triumphant expression crossed Skandar's face as he pressed his sword to her throat. Ilyana was not angry as she held her arms up in defeat. She had not been sure whether she would win or not, and she knew better than to assume arrogance and believe herself the better. Skandar had bested her, therefore he was the more skilled fighter. Ilyana may have trained for several years, but she still wasn't good enough.

"Well done, Skandar," Jon commented, seeming pleased at the defeat of the brunette girl. Aegon was watching Ilyana as she pushed herself to her feet, a considering gleam in his eyes. His expression was impassive, as though he was expecting to watch her throw a tantrum or shout. Instead she simply picked her knives up off the ground.

"Ilyana has done well." Aegon rose to his feet, his remark prompting her to raise her eyebrows in surprise. She had lost, what was so spectacular about that? Yet there was no pride for what Skandar had done, nothing except a sort of bland curiosity. "She has conducted herself with great discipline, even upon losing."

Jon sighed heavily. "You seriously cannot still be thinking about inducting her into your Kingsguard, your grace? The girl _lost._"

"Indeed," Aegon agreed, turning his attention upon his former mentor – whose advice, clearly, he no longer took. "She has proved that she can fight well. She is a worthy opponent for Skandar, which speaks for itself. However, she has also proved her mettle. Ilyana has lost a fight with good grace."

Ilyana was more than a little shocked. She had certainly not expected Aegon to speak on her behalf. Jon did not like her at all, and she had thought the dragon prince's attitude to be little better. She watched, astonished, as he beckoned her over. Tentatively, Ilyana approached and kneeled before him, bowing her head.

"Rise, Lady Ilyana." Aegon tapped her shoulder lightly with the point of his sword. "Knight of the Kingsguard."

Jon looked shocked and appalled that Aegon had made such a huge decision despite knowing that he disapproved of it. Ilyana raked her brown hair out of her eyes, looking up at him to see if perhaps this was some kind of joke, or a test. She saw nothing malicious or amused in Aegon's violet eyes as he sheathed his sword. She clambered to her feet and accepted the white cloak that a scowling Skandar draped around her shoulders.

"I hold no love for the Lannisters," Ilyana confessed, turning her attention upon a sceptical Jon, "This is my way of proving my house's loyalty. I may not be as strong as Skandar, or as good a fighter as him, but I am determined. I am fast."

"I have seen that," Jon replied dryly, "But will that be enough?"

* * *

"What were you thinking?" Landon thundered as his daughter exited the hall. He noted the heavy armour she wore, the white cloak of the Kingsguard clasped around her shoulders. His lip curled in distaste. How easily Ilyana had forsaken their family's pride. She had thrown it away on a pretty cloak and a position that made her nothing more than a meat shield for any weapons that would come Aegon's way.

"I was trying to appease him," Ilyana replied mildly, turning to face her father. She could see the anger in his eyes, but she attempted to ignore it. Whatever she did seemed to be the wrong decision. She wasn't sure where she stood now, what she was supposed to have done. "I saved us, Father. Me."

"No, you have forsaken yourself!" Landon's voice became sharper, causing Ilyana to flinch at its harshness. "Don't you understand? Now you cannot marry, you cannot lay claim to Penumbra. I have no heir because of your foolishness!"

Ilyana felt despair come over her. What was she supposed to do? She had sworn herself and it was an oath only broken by death or exile. Despite Landon's pleas, she doubted that Aegon would release her from the bond. Besides, she had never consented to be a girl. That had been chance. She had never wanted to become a puppet and now that she had started making her own choices, she felt rather…invigorated. Ilyana rather liked being able to have her own say, instead of being controlled.

"It is no foolishness, Father," Ilyana assured him, "I am choosing my own path in life and you would be the fool to try and stop me. I am a knight of Aegon's Kingsguard whether by your will or not, and there is nothing you can do to change that."

Ilyana turned on her heel and walked away from him, closing herself off to the possibility that she had lost him forever. Landon would come around and see the sense in her decision eventually. She just had to give him time to recognise that pride wasn't everything, that sometimes sacrifices had to be made for the freedom you really wanted. Ilyana might be part of the Kingsguard, might be bonded to Aegon, but that was more of a liberty rather than the shackles her father saw it as.


	7. Fear These Shackles

**Chapter Seven: Fear These Shackles**

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**A/N: A huge thanks to my reviewers: madthesaxon, chescake, May Babyee, Total Targaryen and my anons. Sorry for the shortness of the chapter, I promise the next one will be longer…and have a leetle more Aegon/Ilyana.**

* * *

Penumbra thrived with activity as Ilyana busied herself gathering her things. Normally, she would have Pheresa help her with such things, but…no. She couldn't bring herself to think about her friend's betrayal. It still made no sense to her, but no good could come of pondering the reasons why. She had a duty now, which she was reminded of by the white cloak swishing around her shoulders.

Carts were being packed to full capacity and horses tethered to them. Ilyana had never been to Storm's End before. She imagined it as a seaside town prettier than Penumbra. What beauty it had would soon be destroyed, by herself and Aegon Targaryen's forces. Ilyana wasn't quite sure yet what she thought of that. It was a strange prospect – not war in itself, but the fact that she was going to be involved in it.

"Ilyana." She turned to see Aegon leaning in the doorway, his arms folded over his chest. He was wearing a travelling cloak and thick boots. As she believed was expected of her now, Ilyana sank to one knee until he gestured for her to get to her feet. "None of that. A simple 'your grace' will do just fine."

He sounded amused and Ilyana became aware that Aegon was in high spirits. She knew that he was leading the assault on Storm's End, although by his demeanour she would have assumed he had led an attack before. Now she saw a sort of boyish excitement about him and deduced that Aegon had never been in real combat in his life. It was quite a startling revelation, because it went against all of her previous assumptions about him.

"Your grace. What brings you here?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I wanted to see how you were faring. Have you said goodbye to your father yet?"

Ilyana shuffled her feet. She had attempted to seek out Landon earlier in the morning, however it had become painfully obvious to her that her father was avoiding her. Even when she asked the servants, they would give her confusing and long-winded answers. Landon was hunting, he was busy attempting to select a new captain of the guard, he was still asleep. Every lie just seemed to hurt Ilyana more, until she reached the conclusion that if her father did not wish to farewell her, she would just have to accept that. Her decision had driven them apart and that was her own fault.

"No, your grace."

Aegon inspected Ilyana critically. The girl masked her emotions well, so it was hard to tell what she was feeling, but h could have sworn he saw resentment flash through her blue eyes. Aegon had seen how disappointed Landon had been with his daughter and surmised that it must be causing problems between the two. He could not honestly feel guilty or take the blame, for although it had been his decision in the end, he would not initially have chosen a slender girl of six-and-ten to become part of Kingsguard.

"Why did you do it?" He asked.

Ilyana's head shot up and she looked rather startled by the question. "Pardon?"

"Why did you choose to join the Kingsguard?" Aegon inquired. It seemed a very strange choice to him. She could have married and had sons to follow her husband's line – but now she had condemned herself to a mundane existence, a life that followed his. He couldn't understand why any young woman would want that.

Ilyana thought on the question. She supposed it was because she didn't know where she belonged in life, what would happen. She had never much liked the uncertain and instead she had chosen, made her own decision for once. It gave her power. Much as Landon might hate the idea of her becoming a knight, a soldier of any kind, Ilyana saw it as a chance for redemption. But…redeemed for what? For being a girl instead of a boy?

"I like making my own choices," Ilyana replied after a moment's deliberation. There was no doubting that Aegon was sharp. While not suspicious to the point of paranoia, like Jon Connington, he was curious as to why she had such a sudden decision. "If you'll excuse me, your grace, I need to finish packing my things."

* * *

Ilyana hadn't envisioned the vast size of the Targaryen forces until she was actually riding with them. They numbered perhaps ten thousand, although she couldn't be certain. As a member of the Kingsguard, Ilyana rode at the head of the party along with the other two Kingsguard members, Aegon and Jon Connington, among others. Skandar still seemed a bit uneasy with her being among them, but Ilyana found Rolly Duckfield was perfectly cheerful and easy to talk to, although he wasn't the brightest.

Riding was hard on Ilyana. She did not travel often and when she did, it was not far. Her legs grew sore from being in the saddle all day, but she voiced no complaints. Jon slowed a little so that he drew level with Ilyana. He inspected the girl critically. Weariness was written across her face, tiredness in her eyes, even if she didn't want to admit to it. Jon wondered how much the stubborn girl would take before she learned this sort of life wasn't for her, that honour wasn't worth so much.

"How are you, Ilyana?"

"I'm fine," she replied with a hint of irritation in her voice, which only further betrayed her weariness. Ilyana did realise that it was only her welfare being asked about. Jon didn't stop and ask Rolly and Skandar if they were well. "You needn't concern yourself with me."

"I hope you don't expect to participate in the battle when we reach Storm's End." Jon was abrupt, definitely not the sort of person to beat about the bush. Ilyana knew how to defend herself, but she was not ready for battle. No matter what she was capable of, Jon knew her limits. He also knew that she was a girl of merely sixteen.

"What?" Ilyana glanced sharply across at him, her expression accusing, "Is my duty not to defend my King?"

_He is not your King,_ Jon felt like saying, _you only chose him because you saw a liberty that doesn't even exist._ He held his tongue, however. Instead he raked a hand through his thinning hair – the gloved hand, the glove he always kept on – and heaved a sigh.

"You are not fit for battle." He saw her attempting to object and decided that perhaps the harsh approach was the best one for now. "Ilyana, no matter what you think, you are little more than a child, a girl no less. You have never seen battle. You have never seen how men bleed. You may have learned to use your knives, but that's not all there is."

Ilyana stared at him for a moment. She knew that Jon didn't approve of her, perhaps didn't even like her, but she didn't see the need for such scathing comments. Yes, she was young, but she liked to think she wasn't quite as stupid or airheaded as most. She licked her dry, cracked lips and forced her tone to remain even.

"I will go where my King commands."

Jon kept back a sound of frustration and called out to Aegon. "Your grace, tell her. Tell Ilyana that she cannot come with us into battle. She refuses to listen to common sense."

Ilyana was not sure what Aegon would say. He had declined to listen to Jon's advice before, such as when he inducted her into the Kingsguard. She knew it wasn't smart of her to go into battle, yet she also saw it as her duty. She did not intend to fight on the front lines. She only wished to protect her King. Aegon turned, his violet eyes raking consideringly over Ilyana. She almost felt that he could see right through her.

"It would be wiser for you to stay at the camp, Lady Ilyana."

Ilyana ignored how incompetent his words made her feel. Aegon had not participated in battle before and she felt like reminding him of this, but acknowledged that it was most certainly not her place. She pushed aside the disappointment that seared through her and gripped the reins of her horse with a new resolve. If they were testing her, if they thought she would go sulking back to her father, then she would just have to prove them wrong.

There was something a little like pity in Jon's eyes as he spurred his horse forwards and went to ride beside Aegon once more. Ilyana swallowed her pride and kept herself focused on riding and ignoring her saddle sores. Once they reached the camp, she would be the proper lady and help with setting everything up. Only, things were getting more confusing now. Was she a woman, or a warrior? Was it possible to be both?

* * *

The sky was red as blood, which Ilyana found ironic, because at this time tomorrow no doubt much blood would be shed. Although Aegon was eager to march on Storm's End, Jon had instructed him to allow the party a night's rest before the army continued on. As the sun went down over horizon, Skandar Caron had begrudgingly offered to teach Ilyana how to use a sword.

"Lift that sword up." Skandar watched Ilyana, shaking his head in bemusement. He had handed the girl a sword, and not even a broadsword as that. A simple, rather small sword that he thought would match the young lady of the Kingsguard. Although outwardly he was often hostile and contemptuous towards Ilyana, inwardly he felt that the girl was suitably agile and fast and with the right training, could perhaps become as good a warrior as the rest of them. Of course, he would never admit that to Ilyana.

Ilyana struggled with the sword, its weight burning through her arms. She was used to knives which were short and light, extensions of her arm. This sword was heavy and she definitely couldn't use it any kind of extension. It weighed her down, burdened her. What was the point in such a weapon like this? She sighed and wondered how Skandar could hold his sword upright with one arm, while she was struggling to hold hers up with two.

"You don't have much muscle in your upper arms," Skandar observed bluntly.

"I have enough," Ilyana replied, a little insulted. For her it had always been about the speed and ferocity rather than the brute strength. She had more muscle in her legs than her arms, because the knives weren't all that weighty.

"Strike at me," Skandar commanded, stepping back and settling into a battle stance. Ilyana watched him carefully, regretting that her normal routine of circling would not play a part when she had such a heavy weapon in her hands. She lunged at him, barely managing to raise the sword, but Skandar quickly sidestepped. He swept his foot in an arc and Ilyana tumbled to the ground, the sword flying from her hands.

"Pathetic," Skandar surmised, looking down at her, "Was that really giving it all you have?"

Ilyana's head was spinning but she pushed herself up from the dirt immediately. It took her a moment to regain her balance, but once she had she picked up her sword.

"Must you always insult me?"

"It seems the only way you'll learn," Skandar replied dryly, twirling his sword idly in a sort of lazy movement that made Ilyana instantly envious. "You fight because it's what you have been trained to do. You've learned to defend yourself, but is that why we fight? No. As part of the Kingsguard, we fight to protect. This isn't about pride or honour. It's about duty and being willing to carry it out. It may be seen as a ceremonial role, but there is no point to it if you aren't prepared to kill."

Ilyana remained silent. She didn't claim that she could kill, because even she didn't know the truth about the matter. Skandar sighed heavily and sheathed his sword. Ilyana silently handed back her sword, aware that the man was watching her, judging her. She wiped the sweat from her brow and unbraided her long brown hair.

"We will try again, possibly when I return from Storm's End," Skandar informed her, "You are, to put it bluntly, terrible with a sword. But hopefully we will have you at least decent with one soon enough."

Ilyana inclined her head, grateful for the lesson despite the insults. She had the feeling that despite his strange way about things, Skandar was in fact trying to help her. She had never been the sort to push aside help, especially if it was needed.

"Thank you, Ser Caron."


	8. Your Hour Of Need

**Chapter Eight: Your Hour Of Need**

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**A/N: Thanks to my reviewers: madthesaxon, chescake, Total Targaryen and my anon! I'm sorry for the wait, but I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

Septa Lenore's hands were deft yet gentle as she braided Ilyana's brown hair back. The girl heaved a sigh as she thought of the others at Storm's End. She was in two minds as to whether she should worry or not. What if Aegon died in battle? She had pledged herself to defend the King, and she would have failed in her duty simply by not being present. For all his bravado, he was a green boy when it came to the field of battle, not that she would ever dare say that aloud to anyone.

"You seem troubled." Lenore finished Ilyana's braid and got to her feet. There was nothing soft about the woman, Ilyana surmised from watching her. She had known life before the convent, and Ilyana wondered what sort of life that had been. Of course, she didn't ask. All she knew was that Lenore was responsible for Aegon's teachings on religion.

"I worry for his grace," Ilyana seemed to exhale the words, watching the water she had set over the fire slowly come to boil. She tentatively put her blistered feet in, hissing and withdrawing them quickly when the water proved too hot for her to handle. Lenore smiled a little as she watched Ilyana.

"Aegon never had a problem with hot water," she confessed, "Or anything to do with heat, really. Most likely it stems from his Targaryen heritage."

Ilyana set the water aside and decided to let it cool. She was curious now, for in truth she knew so little about the dragon prince. "What was he like as a child?"

"Adventurous," Lenore admitted with a wry smile, "Sometimes he would hide around the boat we lived on, and we couldn't find him for hours. He asked a lot of questions, which was good in the sense that it would help his education. We kept no secrets, told him from a young age what had happened to his family."

Now that Ilyana thought on it, it would seem that even she had a more privileged life than Aegon. He had been raised in the bare minimum, yet with his maturity, it didn't surprise her in the least that he had known hardship. She waited a little longer as the water cooled, but by the time she had put her blistered feet into the lukewarm liquid, shouts and whinnies of horses could be heard outside. Lenore got to her feet and swept from the tent, and Ilyana hurried about pulling on her boots and draping her white Kingsguard cape over her shoulders.

By the very atmosphere of the Targaryen troops, Ilyana could tell that they had succeeded in their quest to take Storm's End. Indeed, there were more of them than she remembered. Aegon had clearly struck up a deal allowing him to take some of Stannis's men. Ilyana couldn't quite help the smile that spread across her lips as she followed Lenore over to where the men were beginning to dismount and tether their horses.

"Watch where you're going, girl." A gruff voice came from in front of Ilyana as she nearly collided with a tall, slender young man. She stepped back, taking in the silky dark hair and grey eyes. He looked like he had northern blood in him. He couldn't be much older than twenty. He regarded Ilyana with a slight frown about his face and the biggest sword she had ever seen slung over his shoulder.

"Are you from the north?" Ilyana inquired.

The dark-haired man raised an eyebrow. "Why is it any of your concern, girl?"

"My name isn't girl," Ilyana replied with a hint of venom in her voice. She was starting to tire of being referred to by her gender rather than her name. "I am Ilyana Rayner, knight of the Kingsguard."

"Is that so?" The man examined the cape that flowed down her back. He didn't look disbelieving or even amused. In fact, his expression was impassive. "I am Donnicon Sand, bastard of the _south_."

"Oh." Ilyana felt a little embarrassed by her mistake, but didn't have time to apologise, for Donnicon swept past her without another word. She watched him go, perplexed. He was a bit of an odd young man.

"Do you see that sword he carries?" Skandar strode over to Ilyana. There was dried blood caking the top of his head and looked completely worn from the fighting. "That's the greatsword Dawn. It belongs to the most valiant member of House Dayne, who is then titled 'Sword of the Morning'."

Ilyana was about to question why Donnicon was in possession of the sword, but then it started to make sense. She had heard tales of the beautiful Ashara Dayne, who had thrown herself off a tower. Perhaps Donnicon was her son, and perhaps he was also the reason. She felt guilty at herself for even making such assumptions. She did not know Ashara, and she had only just met Donnicon.

"There will be a feast tonight." Skandar sighed, raking a hand through hair which was sticking to his scalp. "Mark my words."

* * *

Skandar was not far wrong about the feast. It seemed that most of the men in the camp were content to drink to their victory, unknowing or uncaring about the throbbing heads they would be confronted with come morning. Ilyana remained a world apart from them, solemn and sober in her duty to protect her King. However it seemed that the only protection Aegon currently needed was from the wine that kept sneaking into his goblet somehow.

It was clear from the dragon prince's demeanour that he was unaccustomed to so much wine. His speech was slightly slurred and his movements a little unbalanced. Ilyana was all too used to seeing drunk men in her father's hall. She had seen those who could hold their drunk well, those who couldn't, and those who were complete novices to alcohol. Aegon was a novice. He tossed back his silver hair and laughed, and Ilyana could not help but think how much more attractive her King was when he smiled.

The whores frolicked openly about the camp, and Ilyana distastefully acknowledged that they would certainly get their fair share of money tonight. None of them dared approach the young King or his Hand, however. Neither did Aegon appear interested in any of the scantily clad women. In fact, his interest rested solely in the jokes being told and the goblet of wine in his hand. With a pointed glance at Skandar, Jon removed the goblet from Aegon's hand.

"I think you have had quite enough, your grace."

"Ilyana." Skandar turned to the girl. "You can take the King to his tent."

She sighed heavily. It seemed that none of the Kingsguard wanted to handle a drunken young dragon. She could hardly say she blamed them. Ilyana didn't precisely have experience with intoxicated people, but she could remember holding back Pheresa's hair as the older girl threw up due to an overdose on wine. The thought was bittersweet. It hurt to remember her friend, and how she had been so quickly betrayed by her.

"Alright."

Aegon got to his feet quite ably by himself, but once there he struggled a little with walking in a straight line. Ilyana threw Skandar a sharp glance as the man smirked, putting an arm around Aegon's waist to support him. The King was taller than she had expected, perhaps a few inches over six feet. If she had to judge on Aegon's state of intoxication, she would say he would experience a bad headache in the morning, but shouldn't be throwing up to any great degree.

"Let's get you to your tent, your grace."

Ilyana led the dragon prince away from the music and dancing and revelry. She realised with slight surprise that this was the first time she had been alone with Aegon since he had watched her packing back in Penumbra. She realised then that she was a bit homesick, but she pushed the feeling away and focused on the task at hand. Aegon's tent was heralded by a pair of proud Targaryen flags and Ilyana led him inside, pleased to note that the fire the servants had lit earlier was still burning in a small hearth.

Aegon fumblingly attempted to unlace his boots, causing Ilyana to heave a sigh. She supposed they would just have to do this the hard way. She kneeled down a little awkwardly before him and untied his boots, quickly tugging them off. She also deftly removed the sword strapped to his side. She stepped back, before Aegon tugged at his doublet. Her cheeks burning for reasons she didn't quite understand, Ilyana helped Aegon take his doublet and shirt off.

Once it was done, Ilyana felt there was no harm in appraising her King. He was muscular and well-defined from training and for some odd reason, her cheeks only grew hot the longer she examined him. She supposed the fire in the room must be too warm for her liking. Ilyana dutifully averted her eyes as Aegon flopped onto the bed, pulling the blankets over himself. It was a wonder, with winter almost here, that he didn't find it cold.

"Thank you, Pheresa," Aegon said in a somewhat slurred voice, before rolling onto his side.

Ilyana paused at that, unable to stop herself from stiffening automatically. _Pheresa?_ Why had he called her that? Perhaps, she thought a little sourly, Aegon had been rather attracted to her friend which was why it was her name that he uttered. Ilyana caught herself, wondering why she even cared that Aegon had spoken Pheresa's name. Highly confused and flustered, Ilyana murmured a faint 'your grace', before leaving the tent as hastily as was appropriate.

* * *

Ilyana felt that she could breathe more easily the moment she exited Aegon's stuffy tent. She glanced upwards at the stars and smiled. She could hear the celebrations in the distance and that was precisely how she liked it. Ilyana had never been one for feasts and parties, and so being on the outskirts was something that she was comfortable with. A shadow flickering at the edge of Ilyana's vision caught her eye, but when she turned it disappeared. She frowned, her fingers dancing along the handles of her knives.

She caught it then, something moving in the darkness, stealing towards Aegon's tent. Something glinted ominously in the moonlight, a pale knife. With a cry of alarm, she sprinted towards the shadowy figure, drawing her own knives and tackling them to the ground. The attacker snarled in fury and she could tell it was a man, stocky. He backhanded her harshly, causing her to roll off him. Ilyana's face buzzed in pain but she pushed herself up nonetheless, determined. It was her duty to defend her King, and if she couldn't do that, what use was she?

She lurched at him again, but this time the man landed a solid punch to her gut. Ilyana coughed and staggered, and the attacker slashed across her face with his knife. She cried out in pain and hit the ground hard, her world spinning around her. All she was aware of was that the attacker was moving into Aegon's tent, and warm blood was seeping down the side of her face, and that she had failed…

Someone surged past Ilyana. She looked up, wiping away the blood that obscured her vision. There was what seemed like a distant shout. Then there was Donnicon Sand, dragging the stocky man away from Aegon's tent and hurling him to the ground, drawing Dawn. The stocky man said something that Ilyana couldn't hear, laughed manically. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bottle. Donnicon lunged at him, but it was already too late. The man started to froth at the mouth, and only moments later, he keeled over, and there could be no answers.

Donnicon rushed over to Ilyana. She heard other voices, but couldn't hear their words clearly over the thumping in her head. Donnicon examined Ilyana with concern across his face and she laughed in a brittle way, before wondering what was so funny. Someone scooped her up so that she found herself in a pair of strong arms, being carried somewhere into the night. Ilyana saw Donnicon's dark hair and grey eyes before everything faded into black.

* * *

She woke to something stinging at the side of her face, an irritation she found herself wanting to claw off. Ilyana sat abruptly, only to find that her head was spinning. She winced at the sensation and quickly lay back down. Her fingers probed the side of her face to find several stitches and a warm, thick paste. She decided it best to leave it alone – her exploration of her cheek only made her wince.

Jon Connington sat in a chair across from her. Ilyana hadn't first realised upon waking up, but now she glanced at him. He appeared worn and tired. Her mind still couldn't make sense of what had occurred the night before – had it been the night before? – but she guessed it had been something like an assassination attempt on Aegon. Her face flamed with shame at the knowledge that she had failed her duty. Had Donnicon not been present, Aegon may have been killed.

"No need to reprimand me." Ilyana sighed heavily, flopping back onto her pillow to stare at the roof of the tent. "I know that my incompetence may have cost his grace's life."

"Actually, I was going to inform you that Donnicon's actions have earned him a place on the Kingsguard," Jon said dryly, folding his arms. "But now that you mention it, it may be wise to discuss your failure."

It felt even worse hearing someone else admit it, although Ilyana had already known it was true. She licked her dry lips, waiting for Jon to keep speaking. Her throat was sore, her voice hoarse. She didn't particularly feel like talking at this current point in time. Jon got to his feet and started to pace the tent.

"We still don't know who hired the man. All we know is that he had a knife and was headed for his grace's tent. This leaves no doubt that he intended to murder Aegon. Your duty was protect the King. You may have failed in the physical sense, but you did manage to delay the man enough until help arrived."

Somehow, that didn't really make Ilyana feel any better. She was glad that Donnicon had been so richly rewarded – he did deserve it, considering his actions. He was from Storm's End and Aegon had not been his King, yet like Ilyana, he had pledged himself to the dragon prince. Jon glanced back at Ilyana and there was something like pity in his gaze. It stung even more harshly than the paste on her cheek.

"It's not too late, you know." His voice was sympathetic and the bed creaked as he sat on the edge of it. "You could give up your white cloak and claim your injuries prevent you from further serving the King. No one will think the worse of you."

"Because I'm a girl," Ilyana said wryly, understanding completely. If any man had made her mistakes, he would have been punished for them. She had been shown leniency because of her gender, and she was also given the opportunity to give up because of her gender. She would take none of it. "I might not be a man, Ser Jon, but I assure you that I intend to serve still. How would it seem if I backed down now? I would have come out from Penumbra for nothing. I can't have that."

"You are stubborn," Jon surmised, and she wasn't quite sure if she imagined the slight approval in his tone. He stood, glancing down at her. "The cut will heal and should not scar. You should be alright to get up from your bed in the next few days. That should give you enough time to think about what you intend to do."

Jon left the tent briskly, but Ilyana knew she had no intention of changing her mind within the next few days. Much to her shame, it was Aegon who entered her tent moments later, and she struggled to disentangle herself from the sheets. The King waved a hand and Ilyana fell back against the pillows, guilt tugging at her stomach. There was nothing accusing in Aegon's violet eyes, but she wished there was.

"I am so sorry, your grace," Ilyana murmured, unable to meet his gaze.

"Why?" Aegon sounded almost amused. "You were not the one who tried to kill me. In fact, if my sources are correct, you fought valiantly to stop the assassin. Just because you fell doesn't mean you should feel bad about it."

She looked up at that, a little perplexed. She should be pleased that Aegon didn't hold it against her. However, her main resolve now was that she needed to train harder than before. It was her lack of strength that posed an issue. Therefore, she would have to use something to compensate for that – namely, her speed. Ilyana would just have to put it into practise against men such as Donnicon and Skandar.

Aegon smiled. "We make for Dorne soon. I intend to make allies of my family in the south. They cry out for vengeance against the usurpers who took my mother from them. I am sure they will gladly offer their swords to our cause."

"I hope you are right," Ilyana said, and she meant it. For all the men that Aegon had at his command now, they were nothing compared to the forces that the Lannisters were capable of summoning.


	9. Thirsty For Your Love

**Chapter Nine: Thirsty For Your Love**

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**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers! I would love it if you checked out my new story Shades of War, even though Aegon doesn't come in for a while.**

* * *

Ilyana had never been as far south as Dorne. It was not an easy journey, even from their camp to Nightsong. Her wounds twanged and pricked at times, and sometimes she had to go and see the maester when they reopened. It was not a pleasant experience, although Ilyana was fully aware that she may soon have more like it in her line of duty. Being a member of the Kingsguard was difficult when the King's life was in their hands.

Jon Connington had remained at Storm's End to hold their position there. For this Ilyana was somewhat grateful. It meant she did not have to tolerant the Hand's constant criticisms of her, of her apparent inability. She still had not yet forgiven herself for failing in defending Aegon, and it seemed that Jon had not forgiven her either.

The Martells were Aegon's cousins, and he was determined to form an alliance with them. It was a wise decision in Ilyana's opinion, for the more allies Aegon gained the closer he would be to getting the throne. Would he make a good King? Ilyana was undecided, but knew that anyone was a better King than that sadist Joffrey. She was almost glad of his death, only now his child brother had taken his place.

Ilyana had no part in the game of thrones. She was merely a pawn, not a player, and she was content to remain that way. So long as she succeeded in her duties, she was happy. Or at least, she ought to be – but there was a bitterness she could not explain, something sour that had taken root deep inside her. Ilyana thought she knew what it was, but she refused to acknowledge it. It was something that could never be, so she had to let it go.

Ilyana could not accept that she was developing romantic feelings for Aegon. For the love of the seven, he was her King! It was ludicrous to even consider the notion. Not only was it highly forbidden, but it would certainly compromise her duties of the Kingsguard. She felt girlishly stupid and chastised herself for her foolishness. How had she allowed this to happen? Ilyana supposed, with wry amusement, that her feelings were the one aspect of her behaviour that she didn't have full control over.

When she saw Aegon, she was supposed to see a King. It wasn't his handsome features – that silver hair and those violet eyes – that drew her in, although admittedly they did help. It was his personality, the fact that he cared deeply about those around him. There was a kindness there that was very rare in most would-be Kings. Aegon seemed to shine from within, as he did not crave power. He simply wanted to be King because he was born to it, and he saw it as his responsibility.

* * *

It was a week's ride from where they had been camped to Nightsong. The lord of the hall had once been Bryce Caron, Skandar's older brother, but it soon became clear to Ilyana that Skandar was the Lord of the Marches after Bryce's untimely death. It was a handsome household and Skandar seemed to liven up at the prospect of returning to it. In fact, the night of their arrival he had as a grand feast organised as he could manage.

Ilyana stood by Aegon's side, but in reality she wanted to put on a sky blue dress and dance to her heart's content. She wished for something that she didn't have and felt immensely selfish. No, she had chosen life as a Kingsguard and she could not give up her position for something as petty as a dance. Yet even the other members of the Kingsguard were lively. Rolly Duckfield was on his third mug of ale. Skandar seemed to be enjoying the attention that came with hosting such an event.

"Milady." Ilyana turned to see Donnicon offering her a stiff bow from the waist. However his expression appeared less stern than usual and she supposed that he too had managed to locate the beverages. "Would you give me the honour of a dance?"

Ilyana stifled a laugh. "Donnicon, I'm on duty."

"Oh, come off it," Rolly scoffed, emerging from his mug of ale. "You can't be on duty all the time, girl. Have a few minutes for yourself. I'm sure his grace won't mind."

Ilyana glanced to Aegon. In the end, it was his decision. He offered her a small smile and waved his hand, dismissing her. Ilyana took Donnicon's hand, awfully aware of how ridiculous they must look dancing in their Kingsguard armour. The dark-haired man put a hand on her waist, keeping a respectful distance away.

It seemed so like something she might have done in Penumbra. Usually it was Pheresa dancing though, with Ilyana watching her. Now, Ilyana realised that her practicality might mean she was too serious. Tonight was about celebration, so she would do well to actually enjoy herself. She couldn't help but smile as Donnicon spun her. For the first time since she had departed her childhood home, Ilyana felt comfortable in her own skin. She was Ilyana Rayner, the only woman in Aegon Targaryen's Kingsguard, and the seven be damned she would celebrate tonight as if she had nothing left to lose.

Aegon sipped from his goblet of wine as he watched his men revelling in the music and ale. They had definitely deserved it. Conquering Storm's End had been fairly easy feat, yet any victory in any battle was worth remembering. Aegon was not arrogant enough to believe that he might win the next one.

He watched as Donnicon and Ilyana twirled past, the brown-haired girl laughing. Actually _laughing._ It seemed so uncharacteristic of her and yet somehow, she was glowing. Her happiness seemed to radiate outwards. Aegon realised, with stunned disbelief, that there must be something between Ilyana and Donnicon. She did not seem the type of girl to fall easily, yet how could there be any doubt? Why else would Donnicon have asked her to dance, and why else would she be laughing so freely?

When the dance was done, Aegon clambered to his feet and set his wine goblet down. His head was buzzing and he knew that he was being a little influenced by his drink. When Donnicon drew back from Ilyana, Aegon walked over and tapped the girl on the shoulder. She spun to face him and the laughter immediately died from her face. He felt a little awkward, having such a negative effect on her.

"Would you care to dance, Lady Ilyana?"

"Your grace?" Her expression was puzzled, as if she could not possibly fathom why he had asked such a thing.

"A dance."

"Oh." Ilyana flushed a little, looking a bit embarrassed. "Of course, your grace."

Aegon wondered if she had accepted because she wanted to, or because she felt that she could not deny a request from the King. He rather hoped it was the former. He noticed that her cheeks remained bright red as he drew her closer, although whether it was from exertion or embarrassment he wasn't sure. It was, however, rather endearing.

"Did you dance much back at Penumbra?" Aegon inquired, to which Ilyana shook her head. She appeared a bit unsettled, he noted. Her eyes kept darting about the hall as though she was searching for an escape. "Ilyana, are you well?"

"Yes, your grace," Ilyana replied, her voice firm despite the signs of discomfort she was showing. "I am just…not used to being in such close proximity to you. I'm not certain that it's proper."

"Proper?" Aegon repeated, a little baffled. "Ilyana, it's just a dance."

"I know," she murmured, and promptly drew away from him. He watched with astonishment as she straightened her white cape and walked out of the hall, vanishing into the dark night outside. The girl perplexed him, and yet he was intrigued for reasons that were beyond him. Why was she so averse to such close contact with him? Did she truly find him that repulsive…or was there something else Ilyana Rayner was hiding from him?

* * *

Outside the great hall of Nightsong, a grassy slope ran downwards, disappearing into the darkness below. Ilyana seated herself on that slope and from her vantage point, she could see the silhouettes of the mountains that made up the Dornish Marches. It was a beautiful sight, much more attractive than the stormy sea and flat expanse of land that surrounded Penumbra. She sighed heavily, raking her hands through her hair.

Sometimes, she just didn't understand herself. By the seven, it had only been a dance with Aegon and yet she had been completely thrown out of her comfort zone. In her opinion, a member of the Kingsguard should never dance with her liege, no matter the formality they still retained. Perhaps it was her newfound feelings, damn feelings she shouldn't even possess, that complicated matters.

"Ilyana?" A voice broke the peaceful silence, and she looked up quickly. Donnicon strode down to join her and she remained quiet, feeling childish for running away from her problems. He sat down beside her, and in the half-light she almost thought he looked concerned. "Why are you out here by yourself?"

"I needed some fresh air," Ilyana replied weakly, the excuse sounding false even to her own ears. She watched as Donnicon sighed heavily, fixing his gaze on the mountains. After a moment, Ilyana plucked up the courage to ask a question that she knew would likely offend her fellow Kingsguard. "Donnicon…who are your parents?"

The dark-haired man remained silent for so long that Ilyana thought he wasn't going to answer her. When he did speak, it was in a flat tone, as though he was removed from the story he spoke of.

"I don't know if you have heard the story of Ashara Dayne. She was a beautiful woman, admired by men everywhere in Westeros. Yet seventeen years past, she threw herself off a cliff in Starfall into the sea below. Do you know why?"

Ilyana could guess. She felt ashamed now that she had asked. There had often been rumours about Ashara Dayne's death, and that Brandon Stark had apparently got her with child. Seeing the misery etched upon Donnicon's face, she could understand why he kept his heritage hidden. She understood as well why she had thought him to be from the north.

"Donnicon…" Ilyana murmured, immediately wishing she could take the question back.

"She killed herself because of me." His voice was blunt and edged with bitterness. "Because I was her dishonour staring back at her with so much of my father in me. She couldn't take it. She committed suicide because I made her feel sick about herself."

Ilyana reached out to him, but Donnicon drew away, clambering to his feet. She watched as he stalked back into the hall, his posture rigid. She pressed her face into her hands and wondered what she had done. Donnicon had every right to his secrets, and by asking out of impulse she had summoned forth some of his most painful memories. Part of her wished she was still dancing with Aegon, so that she could never have affronted Donnicon.


	10. Underneath The Skies Of Lust

**Chapter Ten: Underneath The Skies Of Lust**

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**A/N: Wow, 50 reviews! I'm so pleased. Thanks as always to my loyal reviewers: chescake, MANDERS21, AWESOME, madthesaxon, Total Targaryen and Darth Rapture. Next chapter, the rating will be upped to M. You'll see why. **

* * *

Sunspear was a different kind of beautiful than what Ilyana was accustomed to. It was a fierce place, a place that held questionable traditions. However, what Ilyana did approve of was that here, she was not frowned upon for being a female soldier. Women were equal in Dorne, Skandar had informed her. The heir to the throne was Arianne, a woman. She couldn't help but glance across at Donnicon, who had grown grimmer as the days went on. Ilyana supposed that being back in a place that he had been cast out of could not be easy for him. They left their camp on the outskirts of the city and allocated a small party to enter. Ilyana was slightly nervous, not knowing what to expect from the Dornish, but as always Aegon appeared confident.

"Who goes there?" demanded a Martell soldier, he and his companion barring the way with their spears. Skandar spurred his horse forward to the front of the group, his demeanour as proud and cold as his liege's as he inspected the soldiers before him.

"I am Lord Caron of Nightsong and I speak on behalf of the true heir to the throne of Westeros, who would seek an audience with Doran Martell."

The other guard scoffed. "There are plenty of so-called heirs and Kings around the place these days, _my lord._"

Skandar bristled. "The man I speak of is Aegon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell, and _nephew_ to Doran Martell himself. You would deny him entry?"

The guards took one glance at Aegon and went pale, as though they had seen a ghost – and they may well have. There could be no denying that the silver-haired, violet-eyed young man before them was none other than Rhaegar's son. All of Westeros had thought him slain by the Lannisters, the traitorous lions against who Doran secretly plotted.

"Open the gates." Aegon's voice was commanding and would broach no argument. Ilyana felt a surge of pride for him. "Or would you turn away the chance to avenge your master's beloved sister…and my mother?"

"Your grace, his lordship is not well," one of the guards said, adopting a far more respectful tone than the one had previously used with Skandar. "He has recently received news of his son – your cousin – Quentyn's death in Essos. He is currently in grieving."

"Then I will grieve with him," Aegon responded fluidly. He carried himself like a true King and held an aura of power that was difficult to deny. "And also offer him a chance at salvation."

This the guards could not object to. The gates were opened, and Aegon and his company rode through. Ilyana dismounted her horse and followed the others into the great halls. She really did hope that Aegon knew what he was doing, for although she had skills of diplomacy, she knew very little of the nature of Doran Martell.

"Your lordship." One of the guards escorted them through and bowed deeply before Doran. Ilyana was surprised to find him an aging, frail man confined to a wheelchair. He observed them with an impassive expression and she immediately knew that he was going to be a hard man to read. "May I present your nephew, Aegon Targaryen, true heir to the Iron throne."

Doran visibly paled, clutching at the arms of his wheelchair as if for support. As the man gazed down upon Aegon, Ilyana knew there could be nothing but certainty that he was truly a Targaryen. Aegon may not have reminded Doran of his beloved Elia, but he was the image of Rhaegar, and that was proof enough. Aegon lifted his chin and examined Doran with calm violet eyes, waiting for his judgment.

"It can't be…" Doran's brow creased into a frown, "How do I know you are not an imposter? All of Westeros knows that Aegon Targaryen had his head smashed against a wall after he was plucked from my dear sister."

Aegon flinched and Ilyana pitied him. It could not be easy, hearing of the horrors that had befallen the rest of his family – the horrors he had been fortunate enough to escape. He had been the sole survivor of the Lannisters' cruelty and now Aegon was forced to hear as the past was resurrected once more.

"I bring no proof but the army I have raised to take back my throne." Aegon never wavered. No matter the doubts that Doran had, he never faltered. "There is also the word of Jon Connington, my Hand. You may write to him at Storm's End, which we have already taken."

Doran continued to watch Aegon with suspicious eyes, but instead of retreating the young man took a step forward and fell to one knee before his uncle. Ilyana watched with the utmost surprise. A future King, bending the knee to the Prince of Dorne? Whatever his intentions, the emotions were clear in his speech, and a fire burned in those violet eyes.

"I can understand that you are suspicious of me. I seek nothing from you but an alliance. Have your men swear fealty to me, uncle. Have them swear fealty, and we can take back Westeros from the monsters who tore apart our family."

The ghost of a smile still haunted Doran's eyes. "Nephew."

* * *

It seemed that the entire city of Sunspear was celebrating the fact that Doran's nephew was alive. While recently they had mourned the death of his son Quentyn, Aegon's unexpected existence had given them reason to hope once more. Doran had agreed wholeheartedly to an alliance. He would back Aegon as the true candidate for the Iron throne and make his men swear fealty. The only other condition was that another of Doran's nephews – the boisterous Lewyn Martell, only recognised son of Doran's brother Oberyn Martell – had been made a member of Aegon's Kingsguard. The young man had proved himself worthy, and so Aegon had made no objections.

"Why are you not wearing a dress?" Lewyn caught Ilyana's wrist as she circulated through the crowd, keeping an eye on her King. He flashed her a smile. "Oh, come. Surely a dress must be easier to fight in than all that bulky armour."

"You wear the same 'bulky armour'," she replied, somewhat amused. She supposed she had been around too many serious men like Donnicon and Skandar, and was glad that this addition to the Kingsguard had a sense of humour. Lewyn was somewhat flirtatious at times, but it was something Ilyana knew was meant in jest. "You have no problem fighting beside a woman, though? Some do."

"I am from Dorne, good lady." Lewyn drew himself up to full height, puffing out his chest in an imitation of pride. "Women fight beside men every day here. Besides, from what I have heard of you, there is no one else I would rather fight with."

"What have you heard?" Ilyana inquired, attempting to stop her stomach from clenching. Clearly whatever Lewyn had heard was good, else he would not have been pleased to find a woman such as herself in the Kingsguard.

"Rumours of your beauty, of course." Lewyn offered her a grin, to which she shook her head despairingly. "No, but I have heard of your dedication to his grace. It is a most admirable trait. Loyalty to one's King is a far better cause to become one of the Kingsguard than any kind of strength or ability."

Ilyana glanced around for Aegon, and found him talking animatedly with his cousin and Doran's heir, Arianne. She was indeed a beautiful young woman. Ilyana's stomach lurched. Although it was his cousin, she hoped that Doran had no plans of marrying his daughter to Aegon when the fighting was done. Somehow, she already knew why – but deep inside she continued to deny the truth, her feelings for Aegon. For what good could come of it? He was the King and she was one of his soldiers. Ilyana could only ever love him afar.

Wine. She needed wine. Ilyana crossed through the congregation and took up a goblet, drinking just enough to wet her lips. She would only permit herself a little, but all she wanted to do was drink until she could forget these foolish feelings. How had they even come about? She was the daughter of a tactician, she knew better than to let emotions cloud her judgment. All her life, Ilyana had been raised in practicality and with a level head. Now, she had to do something _stupid_ by falling for her King.

What chance did she honestly stand? Not only was her life bound to his, not only had she sworn to defend him, but he was quite possibly the most handsome man she had ever seen. What girl would not find attractive? Whoever Aegon chose as his bride, surely she would have the sense to accept. Ilyana would envy her, whoever she was. She knew that she herself was not unattractive, but if viewing herself from Aegon's violet eyes, she found that she would see herself as…well, rather dull. There was just nothing interesting about her, no spark. Just a dogged determination to do what was right.

"Ilyana?" Lewyn had crossed over to her with a slight frown across his face. She was so used to his easy smiles that the seriousness was rather disconcerting. "Are you well?"

"I am," Ilyana replied, although from her abrupt tone they both knew she was lying. Although she had only really just met Lewyn, already he seemed to see through the high walls Ilyana had built herself, that there was a person behind them who was not simply member of the Kingsguard, Lady Rayner.

"Come." Lewyn took her by the arm and led her outside. The air was musky and there was a mixture of aromas that made it hard for Ilyana to breathe. "Talk to me."

"We should be watching Aegon," Ilyana protested, but Lewyn kept a firm grip on her arm and sat down on one of the stone benches.

"Donnicon and Skandar are watching him like hawks. We may have a few moments. Now Ilyana. I would like to be your friends. Would you like to be friends? Good. How about you start by telling me what's wrong? You suddenly seemed so distant in there, like you didn't want to be part of any of it."

Ilyana genuinely liked Lewyn. She thought that he meant well and behind the flirtatious, easygoing charade, he had a kind heart. However, her problems were not the sort easily confided to men. Perhaps she would gossip to another woman – her heart panged when she thought of the secrets she had once shared with Pheresa – but a man was likely to turn the matter into something of amusement, something to poke fun at.

"I…I wish that I could tell you, Lewyn." Ilyana sighed heavily and looked to the stars. They glittered overheard, silent observers, coldly watching. They offered no consolation. Her mother had died underneath these stars, on a night nearly seventeen years past. "But I fear that my problem is one best kept locked in my own heart."

"A matter of the heart?" Lewyn raised his dark eyebrows at that. "Oh, do you have a secret admirer whose feelings you don't return?"

Ilyana laughed bitterly. She wished. It would be nice to believe her feelings were requited, but it would be a girlish dream, a beautiful lie. Ilyana had always been one for blunt, sometimes painful truths. All lies did was tangle you a web of confusion so thick that you might never find your way out.

"Alright then." Lewyn could see that Ilyana was not about to relent, and he clearly was not the sort to pressure her. He clambered to his feet and offered her a hand. "Perhaps we should return inside, hm? I think my dear cousin Arianne is beginning to miss me."

* * *

Now that there were more members in the Kingsguard, Ilyana found that they could take it in shifts, and she was relieved from her duties during the night as Lewyn passed her with his customary wink. She found herself slightly worried, though. Not for herself, but for her King. There were five members of a total of seven in the Kingsguard – however, most of them were amateurs. They knew how to fight a battle, but acting the part of an honorary knight was a completely different matter. Ilyana exhaled deeply. Perhaps she needed to concern herself less. It was like she bore the burdens of all Westeros on her own shoulders.

"You do like being alone."

Ilyana shot up at the familiar voice, immediately pushing herself clumsily to one knee with a murmur of 'your grace'. Aegon waved a dismissive hand.

"We don't need formalities out here where no one can see us. Sometimes I find them to be rather tiring."

He sat down beside her and leaned back with a sigh, tilting his head back to look up at the dark canvas of the night sky, strewn with glittering stars. Ilyana watched him while pretending she wasn't.

"Doran wanted me to marry Arianne."

"What?" Ilyana's head snapped sharply around to face him. Not only was it news to her that the Prince of Dorne had asked this, clearly privately, of Aegon, but she was also astonished that he had chosen to speak to her of the matter. "What did you say?"

"I declined." Aegon sighed heavily, raking a hand through his silver hair. "I informed my uncle that I am already promised to another."

"Daenerys," Ilyana stated, her heart sinking. She had heard Jon Connington mention Aegon's aunt several times. It made her even more envious, for the girl had to be around the same age as Ilyana, yet was already known as the most beautiful woman in the world. She could not compete with that, even if she had stood a chance in the first place.

"Yes." Aegon lapsed into silence for a few moments. "But I don't wish to marry her, either."

So he already had his heart set on someone. That made Ilyana feel possibly even worse. Knowing that he was entering into a political marriage with his aunt was one thing, but knowing that Aegon loved another was starting to become painful.

"Who do you want to marry?" Ilyana inquired, not knowing whether she wished to hear the answer or not.

"Someone I can never have." Aegon turned to glance at her and she found her palms growing sweaty, her heart slamming against her ribcage. No, it wasn't possible. Why would he have feelings for _her_? She must just be imagining things. "You, Ilyana."

"What?" The whisper escaped her lips, for now she was a little afraid. An unrequited fascination with her King was one thing. That could go away over time. However, knowing that he felt the same as her was almost too much to bear. Ilyana had never believed in fairytales of romance and chivalry, had never believed in happily ever after. However, she didn't think that love would feel so…miserable.

Aegon showed her, but not with words. He turned to Ilyana, putting his arms around her and kissing her…and she kissed back. He was so warm, and she just wanted to lose herself in his fire…yet she couldn't. It wasn't allowed. However she let herself forget duty, just this once, as she succumbed to desire. Ilyana had always thought how soft Aegon's silver-blond hair looked and as she ran her fingers through it, it was just how she had imagined.

His grip around her waist tightened and he tugged her even closer, so that she was straddling his lap. Ilyana had never kissed a man like this before. She had never felt the need or want to. But now, kissing Aegon, she lost herself in his delicious fire. A quiet gasp escaped her as Aegon's lips moved to her neck, burning against her skin in the best way possible. She seemed to turn to putty in his hands, malleable. Aegon was starting to lose his self-control, nibbling lightly at the tender skin of her neck. Ilyana couldn't quite restrain a moan.

She fisted her hands in his hair as he kissed her hard. Aegon slid a hand up the small of her back, sending pleasant shivers down Ilyana's spine. He lay back on the grass, still holding her to him. However, the movement seemed to bring her back into the real world and she drew back, her brown hair falling into his face. Aegon smiled and brushed a strand behind her ear, but Ilyana recoiled from the gesture and climbed off him, staggering unsteadily to her feet. His kisses had made her weak.

"Ilyana?" Aegon sat up, looking confused. "I am sorry. Have I wronged you?"

_YES! You have made me question myself, question something that before was concrete. You loving me and kissing me means that now I can't take a step back, now I have no choice but to keep caring about you!_

"No, your grace," Ilyana whispered, knowing that she had to depart before she lost her composure completely. "I…I should retire. Goodnight."

She turned and hurried away before he could call her back. Ilyana barely managed to stagger into her tent and collapse on the furs of her bed before she burst into frustrated tears. She was torn now. What did she want? Would she hold fast to her duty, or choose Aegon? No…not her King. She wasn't good enough for him. Ilyana tugged her knees to her chest and took several deep breaths, attempting to calm herself down. Tomorrow, she would pretend that nothing had ever. She would act like they had not kissed, had not come that close. Even if it would kill her inside.


	11. Taste The Blame

**Chapter Eleven: Taste The Blame**

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**A/N: A huge thanks to my reviewers: MANDERS21, Darth Rapture, madthesaxon, chescake and Total Targaryen. The rating has been upped to M due to a sex scene in this chapter.**

* * *

It was more than just slightly shocking to Ilyana when Daneal and Pheresa Carfield arrived at Storm's End to speak with Aegon. Hope filled her heart as she realised that they must have seen sense and come to join in with the war effort. It would be very welcome – Daneal had apparently been quite the warrior back in his day.

However, when the Carfields approached Aegon's tent, closely guarded by Ilyana and Lewyn, there was something different about them. Something cold and proud that hadn't been present when they had lived in Penumbra. Ilyana felt a strange sense of loss. Daneal passed her without recognising her, however Pheresa stopped and examined her, shock coming over her face.

"_Ilyana_?" Her surprise immediately contorted into something like arrogant disdain, as she inspected the girl who had once been her friend. "So this is what you have become. A guard dog for a so-called King."

"He is the true heir to the throne." The words were colder than Ilyana had intended them to be, and she suddenly realised that she was gripping her knives so hard her knuckles were turning white. "What are you doing here, Pheresa, if you are not here for peace?"

"Oh, I am here for peace," Pheresa assured her, tossing back her hair. "Just a different kind. I am betrothed to Willas Tyrell now, did you know that? Of course you didn't. The Lannisters know all about your pretender King. They've come with an offer for him, which I think is very noble. If it was up to Father, all of you would be decimated."

It surprised and hurt Ilyana to hear such bitterness coming from a former friend of hers, a girl she had known since childhood. She felt a fierce sense of longing, longing for something that she couldn't have: her friendship with Pheresa back. Only the other girl was too changed – or perhaps it was Ilyana that had changed.

Aegon exited his tent, followed by a silent and foreboding Daneal Carfield. Ilyana watched him and he turned to her and Lewyn, beckoning for them to follow. Confused, Ilyana exchanged a baffled look with her fellow Kingsguard member, trying to ignore the knowing smirk playing about Pheresa's lips. Ilyana trailed after Aegon as he gathered the rest of the Kingsguard together, a solemn expression on his face.

"Ser Daneal Carfield has brought word from Cersei Lannister." The woman's name brought murderous mutters to the lips of his Kingsguard, causing Daneal's eyes to sharpen. "She has challenged me to a duel of champions, in which she has named Ser Loras Tyrell as her champion, and says I should name my own. The duel will be to the death. If Cersei's champion wins, I am to retreat from King's Landing and make my home at Storm's End. I will not challenge her son's claim to the throne. If my champion wins, Cersei will allow for a court hearing into the matter of my right to succession, after which they will decide on the validity of my claim."

There was an uproar at that, and Ilyana felt that she might have been the only one to remain silent. It hardly seemed fair for Aegon. Cersei would likely lose nothing either way the duel went. Aegon did not stand much of a chance, and the indignation boiled like hot water within her veins. Aegon's violet eyes raked over them all.

"I just do not know which of you should contend with Ser Loras."

A quiet came over the Kingsguard at that, and a smile twisted Daneal's lips. Ilyana bit her lip, for all present knew the reputation that followed Loras Tyrell. He was a man of honour, a knight with skill to rival Jaime Lannister. Suddenly, knowing all of that, she lifted her chin. While the others glanced between each other, Ilyana boldly took a step forward. Aegon's violet eyes narrowed. They both knew what she was doing. There was no questioning her decision now.

"I will do it."

Pheresa burst out laughing and Ilyana turned to face, a sudden hatred coursing through her. This older girl could never understand. Her head had always been full of illusions of romance and marriage. Something like being a knight, liking serving someone other than yourself, was a notion she could not comprehend. Perhaps that was why she had come to treat Ilyana so. Aegon sighed heavily, raking a hand through his silver hair.

"Tell Cersei Lannister that my champion is the Lady Ilyana Rayner."

Daneal looked just as amused at his daughter, but he hid it better. However Ilyana had always looked to people's eyes first, and she saw it there and it hurt like a blade through her ribs. Perhaps she would earn that when she fought Loras Tyrell.

"My lady will expect you and a small group of escorts and retainers within the week."

"Your grace, she is just a girl!" Skandar protested, causing Ilyana to glance sharply across at him. Her age, her gender, had nothing to do with this. It was not the reason she had stepped forward, and neither should it give reason for her to step back. "Let one of us fight in your stead. We would all be glad to fight and die for…"

"Enough, Ser Caron." Aegon raised a hand and Skandar lapsed into silence. "Ilyana has made her decision."

"You will die." The words came from Pheresa, soft and poisonous as chatter resumed amongst the Kingsguard and her father went to saddle his horse. Ilyana looked towards her, perhaps expecting to see some remorse in her eyes, anything that would make her the friend she had once known from her childhood – yet there was nothing there, nothing but bitterness. "You know that you don't stand a chance."

"I fight for my King," Ilyana replied sternly, "I would gladly die for him."

"Of course you would." A venomous smile curled Pheresa's lips, her eyes glittering. "Don't think me a fool, Ilyana. You love him."

* * *

Ilyana whirled around as Aegon stalked into her tent. Her fingers had been working nimbly at pulling her brown hair back into a practical braid, and she could not help but flush at the improper manner in which she appeared before her King. She hurriedly pulled an awkward curtsy, but Aegon seized her by the arms and tugged her back up into a standing position, shaking her like a ragdoll.

"What in the name of the seven were you _thinking_?" he hissed, his violet eyes simmering with a fury like she had never seen. Targaryens were immune to fire, but Ilyana wasn't especially to not this kind, the rage that seemed to burn out from Aegon. "You volunteered yourself up to fight _Loras Tyrell_? Are you mad, girl?"

'Girl'. She hated it when people addressed her by her gender, as Aegon was doing now. Perhaps in the past Ilyana would have demurely averted her eyes, mumbled some excuse. Only maybe Aegon's fire had spread and she had caught alight, for she wrenched away from him and straightened her dress, tilting her chin defiantly upwards.

"I am not mad, your grace. Far from it, in fact. Logically, none of the Kingsguard would stand a chance against a warrior such as Ser Loras. The rest of the Kingsguard will fight because they don't wish their pride to be wounded, because they are hungry for success, and that's very admirable. _I_ fight him because I swore an _oath_ to the man I love that I would defend him to the death, and I still believe in that promise now."

Aegon observed her with a slightly stunned expression, as though he didn't quite know what to say to her. He blinked and suddenly she did not see a strong, confident King – she saw an eighteen-year-old boy.

"You…you love me?"

"Of course I do!" Ilyana threw up her arms in frustration. "Did you truly believe your feelings to be unrequited when I kissed back? I know it's improper to admit it…but…if I am going to die tomorrow fighting Loras Tyrell, you might as well know the truth."

"There are lot of things one should before they die," Aegon agreed, his composed mask coming back up. He strode over to her and started to tug the pins from her hair so that the braid loosened and her brown hair spilled down her back. She watched him curiously, almost suspiciously. He put his arms around her waist and kissed her fiercely.

Ilyana kissed back and tonight there was no holding back. Tonight she was not the soldier to his King, but they were merely a girl and boy who had no hope of following their hearts. She pressed hard against him, craving more, as if they could possibly become one if she clutched at him any tighter. Aegon made no attempt to be a gentleman – his hands gripped her tightly by the waist and his lips trailed a dangerous heat down the column of her neck.

Ilyana fisted her hands in his soft silver hair, tilting her head back and not even trying to restrain the gasp that escaped her. His teeth grazed along the tender skin, hands sliding up her back to hold her steady, for if he wasn't she was certain that she would have melted in a pile of goo. Aegon smirked at seeing her come undone and they fell in a tangled heap on her bed, a confusion of tongues and hands. In the chaos, Aegon's shirt seemed to fly over the other side of the tent of its own accord, and Ilyana's dress seemed to unlace itself.

"Aegon…" Ilyana was breathless, barely able to suppress a soft moan as his hands slithered inside her dress to fondle her breasts. "Are…are you sure this is what you want?"

He drew back a little to look at her and she could see the lust burning in his eyes – but now he was controlling it. Ilyana realised that it was for her. He would know that she was a virgin and it was because of that he now showed reluctance. She bit her lip, suddenly wishing the question unasked.

"Yes." He traced his fingers down her cheek, her neck. "Do you? It will hurt, Ilyana."

"I'm not afraid of pain," Ilyana replied, grabbing him and pulling him back down so that she could kiss him. Aegon responded with enthusiasm, his fingers scraping the bare skin of her legs as he hitched her dress up past her thighs. Ilyana made quick work of undoing his pants, a flush creeping up her cheeks. She had not seen a man naked before, not like this. He noticed and a rather smug smile spread across his lips, before he kissed across her collarbone down to her breasts, taking a nipple in his mouth.

"Aegon…" Ilyana moaned, feeling that she might come undone then and there. She wriggled in pleasure, twisting her hands tighter in that beautiful hair of his. He drew back after a moment, tugging her dress off her so that she was completely bare. Ilyana felt her cheeks heating up under his gaze.

"You're beautiful," he told her huskily. Apprehension fluttered in the bottom of Ilyana's stomach, but she ignored it. This was wrong, but it was right. Even if she didn't die tomorrow, she doubted that she would regret it. Aegon gently gripped her calves and crooked her legs up so that they were spread apart and bent at the knee. He moved forward and leaned over her, his body pressing down on hers.

Aegon pushed forward suddenly and a scream escaped Ilyana at the sudden, piercing pain she felt at his invasion. Tears welled in her eyes and his eyes flickered briefly with guilt as he kissed her lips softly, remaining still so that she could grow accustomed to him. Once Ilyana had relaxed she offered him a small, somewhat shaky smile. He gripped her hips and held her in place, drawing out before thrusting in again. There was a small amount of pain still, but it was nothing compared to the initial agony. Ilyana exhaled deeply.

It became clear that being gentle was not something that applied to Aegon in this particular area. He set a hard, fast pace that caused Ilyana to arch her back at the feeling, still a mixture of pleasure and pain. She reached up and put her hands on his shoulders, nails digging in as the pleasure grew more intense. Aegon hissed slightly, and Ilyana worried that she had done something wrong, before he kissed down her neck and she relaxed once more. Aegon growled and pushed her legs further apart, seizing hold of Ilyana's legs and repositioning them around his waist.

_Seven hells, he's dominating,_ Ilyana thought, but had no objection whatsoever to this. He pumped into her and she let her head fall back, a cry of pleasure escaping her at the tingling sensation she now felt. Aegon groaned and pushed deeper, his pace alternating between slow and fast. Ilyana raked her nails down his back, as if that could somehow alleviate the feeling, and he responded by biting down her neck. She knew he would leave marks, but she could not bring herself to care.

The pleasure continued to escalate until Ilyana no longer felt that she was in her own body, like she was lifting. She gave another loud cry of pleasure and flopped back, and moments later Aegon grunted and gave one last thrust before he collapsed onto her, the pair of them breathing heavily and covered in sweat.

"Will you regret it in the morning?" Ilyana asked softly as he rolled off her and pulled her into his arms. She knew that she would no doubt be sore in the morning and that was perhaps the only thing she regretted, that her soreness might give Loras Tyrell an advantage.

"No." He offered her a smile, but she saw that fire, still burning in his eyes. "Never."


	12. Baring Your Teeth

**Chapter Twelve: Baring Your Teeth**

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** A/N: Finally, a chapter! I hope you all enjoy this one, although it's a little short for my liking. I am still attempting to map out the next few chapters, so not sure when the next one will be posted, but hopefully it won't be too long! Enjoy!**

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Dawn's pale fingers crept over the Targaryen encampment and found Ilyana asleep with her head rested on Aegon's chest, fingers splayed across his torso. Her brown hair fell over his face, but despite the somewhat awkward positioning, both were content to lie there and sleep. Unfortunately Jon Connington was already up and about, fretting over why his King was not already awake when the rest of their camp was preparing to leave. The battle between Loras Tyrell and Ilyana Rayner would commence in mere hours, and the young dragon was not yet awake.

Upon entering Aegon's tent, Jon was perplexed to find it empty. He raked a hand through his thinning hair and wondered where in the seven hells the boy could be. Nonetheless, he decided that it would be prudent to wake Ilyana, so that she may be alert for the upcoming duel. He pitied the girl, taking up the challenge because of her utterly blind devotion to her King. However when Jon opened the tent flap, he froze. He didn't think in his many years he had ever come across a more unexpected sight.

Ilyana was asleep, just as Jon had anticipated she would be – however she was far from alone. Aegon lay beside her and the sheets were tangled around their waists. Both youths were naked, and it didn't take any kind of genius to come to the conclusion that Jon did. For the love of the seven, was Aegon deliberately attempting to try and stray down the same path his father Rhaegar did, trying to have a woman that could never be his?

Jon crossed over in a few quick strides and seized Aegon by the shoulder, shaking him awake none too gently. The dragon prince was immediately up, tugging up his pants and fumbling for a sword before he noticed who had woken him and settled back against the pillows with a frustrated sigh. Ilyana screamed piercingly and dived under the sheets at the sight of Jon, utterly humiliated.

"Seven hells, Jon," Aegon said in exasperation, raking a hand through his silver hair. "Could you not have given more warning?"

"I must speak with you immediately," Jon stated bluntly, his tone notifying Aegon that he would broach no argument on the matter. With a heavy sigh, the young dragon tugged on his pants and followed Jon outside. Jon folded his arms over his chest and glowered at Aegon, hoping that he could make his meaning clear without words. But the young man's violet eyes held nothing but defiance.

"Have I done something to anger you, Jon?"

Jon threw up his arms towards the sky, praying to the gods that they would show this boy sense. He understood that Aegon was a mere eighteen years old and that boys of his age had…sexual desires. However it was completely improper for Aegon to be making love to a lady of the Kingsguard – especially when Jon had no doubts that Ilyana had been a maiden before the incident.

"Are you out of your mind?" Jon hissed. It would not do for him to yell at the King in front of his soldiers, and he knew that Aegon would never forgive a public humiliation. He gripped Aegon by the shoulders and shook him. "You will marry your aunt Daenerys, and don't forget it! Whatever feelings you think you have for Ilyana – it's merely lust, Aegon. You are a young man still and you have needs, and I can understand that. But you do _not_ fulfill such desires with a member of your own Kingsguard!"

"I love her, Jon." Aegon's voice was firm, and immediately Jon felt himself lapsing into despair. It was as though Aegon was making Rhaegar's mistakes all over again. Next thing he knew, the boy would be running off with Ilyana – but although that would spark some controversy, it would not result in another continental war. "You can say what you will. If Daenerys wanted to come back and claim Westeros, she would have done by now. She has made Essos her home."

Jon stared at him incredulously. "You would sacrifice all that we have worked for, since you were only a babe, for a _girl_?"

"Of course not!" Aegon snapped eyes flaring with Targaryen fire. "Do you think me a fool, Jon? I care for Ilyana, but the throne comes first. I have always known that. I am not such an idiot as to forsake all of that. Besides, isn't it likely that she will die in combat anyway?"

Jon sighed heavily. To deny Aegon's words would be a lie. Loras Tyrell was one of the most famed knights in Westeros, although allegedly severely burned in one of his more recent battles. He may have lost his beauty, but he had not lost his skill. Although talented herself, Ilyana was no match for such a man. He raked a hand through his thinning hair and nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Then I would do well not to get attached," Aegon added, and although his tone was nothing more than casual, there was a melancholy in his eyes.

* * *

Ilyana braided her long hair back, for it was practical considering she didn't want it in her eyes as she fought. There was also a slight breeze which would contribute to her hair whipping about. Unfortunately, she happened to notice that all of those present were watching her rather impatiently. Pheresa stood at the sidelines, but there was no smirk upon her face now. In fact, she looked rather worried – although Ilyana thought perhaps it was concern for Loras.

Loras Tyrell was not the handsome man that Ilyana had heard rumours about. His face was disfigured now, due to the hot oil that had spilled on him. However the grip on his sword showed that no matter his unsightly appearance, he would always be a warrior. Ilyana removed the white cloak that signified her as a member of the Kingsguard and passed it over to Jon Connington. Something like pity flashed through Jon's eyes, and that strengthened Ilyana's resolve. She was a girl, not helpless.

Ilyana drew her knives, watching how they glittered in the sunlight. Would Loras Tyrell's face be the last thing she ever saw? A shiver ran down her spine, and she forced herself not to think of it. Loras watched her closely, and she knew that she was meant to be the first to make a move. _Ladies first._ She slashed at him, but his sword quickly swung towards her and she managed to take a big step back, watching the sword whistle just past her face.

Gods, he was fast. He was faster than any other member of Aegon's Kingsguard, and this troubled her. What if Loras was sent to kill Aegon? Ilyana's duty was to protect her King, and that protection meant getting rid of anything that may threaten Aegon's inevitable ascension to the Iron throne. Loras Tyrell was a threat. She told herself that over and over, as she spun on her heel and slashed at his side.

Loras took a swift step back, before he put the same foot forward and slammed the hilt of his sword into Ilyana's face. She was fast, and nearly managed to avoid the blow, but the hilt still made contact with her cheek. She tasted coppery liquid in her mouth as she hit the ground. Ilyana rolled onto her stomach and spat out blood. Her knives had never left her grasp, and of that she was grateful, for she did not wish to give Loras the opportunity to kick them away.

Ilyana pushed herself to her feet and spun, using the momentum to slam her booted foot into Loras's chest. The impact jarred her leg and forced the Knight of the Flowers back several steps, before he swung his sword at her again. This time the tip scraped the joint between gauntlet and chainmail, and Ilyana hissed angrily, realising that he had managed to draw second blood as well as first.

With Ilyana off-balance, Loras stroke again. He hammered a blow against her breastplate, and although the sword didn't strike on the right angle to cut through, it knocked the wind out of her, likely breaking a few ribs as well. Ilyana groaned and staggered. Her knives, she had to keep a hold of her knives. She made a swift but aimless slash, but Loras slammed the flat of his blade onto her wrist. Ilyana yelped and the knife fell to the ground.

Loras knew that he was winning and he snaked his foot behind Ilyana's, pulling back and knocking her off her feet. She hit the ground hard and Loras paused, his sword still gripped tightly in his hand. Ilyana's head spun, but amidst the throbbing pain, she wondered why he had not killed her yet.

"Ser Loras, enough games." Cersei's voice was as cold as the winter that was fast falling upon them. "Finish her."

"Your grace, I can't." Loras licked his lips rather nervously. Ilyana hardly dared breathe, not only because it hurt, but because if she moved Loras might think she was getting back up to take another slice at him. "She…it isn't honourable to kill a woman."

"A woman?" Cersei sneered the word, staring down at Ilyana as she pushed herself unsteadily up from the ground. If she was to die today, she would die standing, not lying prone at Loras Tyrell's feet. "Don't you see? She has been made a part of the Kingsguard. She does not dress or act like any Westerosi woman. She is nothing but a rebel barbarian."

"Even so, your grace." Loras dropped his eyes. He was clearly ashamed of his inability to comply with the Queen's wishes. Ilyana was no coward and she did not wish to be spared simply because of her gender, but at the same time, she was not going to contradict Loras's words. "I deeply regret that I can't continue. I won't kill her."

"It is a duel to the death," Cersei informed him, her words cool and precise. Ilyana could tell that despite the fact that the Queen retained her composure, she was beginning to lose control. "You must kill her for the duel to be finished. This is what you agreed to."

Loras sheathed his sword. "I did not know that I would be fighting a woman, your grace, or else I would not have agreed to it."

"It would appear that the duel is over," Aegon stepped forward, earning a glower from Cersei. He offered her a rather indolent smile. "We can discuss different terms later, Lannister, as it would appear a duel of champions is not going to work in our favour. However for now, I would like to have Lady Rayner's wounds examined."

Ilyana limped over to Aegon, feeling that somehow she had failed, although in truth she had given Loras no cause not to strike her down save her gender. When he examined her, there was true concern in his violet eyes, although in front of everyone present, he could not take her in his arms and kiss her as he so badly wanted to.

"Are you well?" he inquired in the most imperious tone he could muster, a tone that made Ilyana smile.

"I will be, your grace."


	13. Comfort in Decay

**Chapter Thirteen: Comfort in Decay**

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**A/N: I know, I haven't updated in forever! I'm sorry! The reason is...I had no idea where this was going until recently. So now I've figured out my ending...and I don't think you will like it :/ But it is Game of Thrones, and a happy ending is never guaranteed. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Let me know what you think.**

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Aegon paced in agitation as he waited for Cersei and the rest of her advisors. Jon had adopted a more relaxed stance, but then again, he had been in situations like this before. Aegon was new to these negotiations, and he was afraid. He didn't want to fail Jon, or worse still, fail his people. He raked a hand through his silver hair and made a mental note to visit Ilyana in the medical tent when this confrontation was over.

Cersei Lannister entered the tent, and Aegon observed her with narrowed eyes. There was no doubting that she was a beautiful woman, yet her beauty was beginning to fade. Perhaps in a few years, she would be emaciated, with no beauty in either her body or soul. The thought was oddly amusing to Aegon. She offered Aegon a sweet smile, but his eyes remained on hers, and those emerald orbs were nothing but cold.

"So kind of you to again to meet with me, Aegon," Cersei cooed. Aegon remembered Jon saying that she had taken an interest in his father Rhaegar many years ago. He swallowed hard, fully aware of his resemblance to the long-dead dragon prince. His heart ached more than ever for the parents that he had lost. How he wished that he could have known them. "I have come up with some terms of surrender that I truly hope you'll agree to."

Aegon folded his arms. "Let's hear them."

"I'm willing to make peace," Cersei clasped her hands together. "If you marry my daughter Myrcella and agree never to make another attempt at such a silly rebellion. You would be King that way."

Aegon frowned. Tommen was already King, and in a few years would no doubt go on to sire his own heirs. He knew that Cersei was a liar, that he would never truly be King. Besides, Myrcella was only a child. It seemed almost perverted, the idea of marrying a girl so much younger than himself. His violet eyes hardened.

"Do you take me for a fool, Lannister?"

Cersei's smile remained saccharine. "Of course not. I simply thought you would see fit to preserve the peace."

Aegon's mind drifted to the one woman who he would without a doubt marry – Ilyana. Yet their love was doomed, for how could a King ever marry a woman so far below his station let along a member of his own Kingsguard. Cersei was watching him with harsh, judgmental green eyes. They seemed to penetrate his very soul and he averted his own violet eyes, as though that would stop her from peering into his hidden depths.

"But I do know there is an issue," Cersei murmured quietly, her entire face lighting up with rather cruel triumph. "You are besotted with that lady knight of yours, Ilyana Rayner. Surely you cannot hope that such a romance will last? You are merely a boy who has never had a woman, and she is blossoming into her adulthood. It is nothing. It always will be nothing."

"Don't try and tell me how I feel," Aegon replied coldly, taking a step towards Cersei and dearly wishing he could strike her. He had never been one to imagine violence against a woman and he certainly would not carry it out, but in that moment he had never desired to hit a woman more than he wanted to hit Cersei Lannister. He clenched his hands into fists and then unclenched them once more. He would not unravel before this bitch of a Queen.

"She loves you," Cersei continued, still attempting to drive her little verbal barbs beneath his skin as he resisted her efforts. "But you will only end up hurting her. We both know it to be true."

Aegon clenched his jaw but did not rise to the bait. "There will be better offers than yours, Lady Lannister. Of that, we can both be certain."

* * *

"Ouch!" Ilyana hissed and turned her face as Septa Lenore worked at tidying up her wounds. The healing balms stung against the flesh like salt and she couldn't help but wince as the septa dabbed brusquely at her cuts. She lapsed into silence when the tent flap opened and Aegon entered. Quickly, Ilyana schooled her features into the neutral expression of a Kingsguard seeing her liege. It would not do to become the romantic fool, especially not in front of Lenore.

"Lady Ilyana." Aegon folded his arms as he inspected her, but she knew those lazy violet eyes were more concerned than they appeared, and they were searching for damage. "I commend you for your bravery. It is no easy feat to fight Loras Tyrell and survive."

"He was the better, your Grace," Ilyana replied calmly, grimacing as Septa Lenore started to bandage some of her wounds in silence. The septa was oddly quiet. Ilyana wondered if just perhaps, Lenore was beginning to guess the affections between the lady knight and her King. She bit her lip and tried to focus more on her wounds than Aegon.

"Lenore, I would speak with Ilyana alone," Aegon stated. The septa looked up from her work, and there was definitely a knowing gleam in her eyes as she inclined her head and silently departed. Ilyana fiddled agitatedly with her hands. Had Aegon mentioned their relationship to the septa? Had he mentioned it to anyone? Now she was paranoid that the signs were obvious, that anyone around them could see what was there.

"Cersei approached me with peace terms." Aegon was abrupt, and Ilyana was grateful for it. "She said that such a peace could be achieved if I married her daughter Myrcella."

Ilyana gnawed on her lip. "Did you accept?"

Aegon's brow furrowed. "Of course not. But it appears that others are aware of her offer. I received a letter from the scattered remains of the Stark and Tully alliance."

Ilyana's heart was beating so loudly that she was sure her dragon King could hear it. How could she have denied him being the rightful heir, when she now followed him with such blind devotion? However…what could the Starks and Tullys want from Aegon? She was not naïve enough to believe they would simply support Aegon's claim because they had lost their own King.

"What did they write about?" Ilyana asked, uncertain if she wanted to know the answer.

"Sansa." Aegon raked a hand through his hair, and Ilyana immediately understood what was meant by the oldest surviving Stark child – a girl of fifteen who was by all accounts, very beautiful. Ilyana was struck by a childish jealousy. "They promise me their assistance if I'll marry her."

Ilyana was not sure what to feel. Had she truly expected that she and Aegon would have a happy ending? She didn't want to ask what Aegon had replied, for she already knew the answer. If Jon had had any say in the matter, the betrothal was sealed even at this moment. She felt sick suddenly, and swallowed back bile. Yet Ilyana fiercely convinced herself that she must not care. Her first priority was keeping the King out of danger, not keeping him happy. She must not overstep the boundary between professional and personal, as she seemed to prone to doing of late.

"You must do it," Ilyana whispered. She was hardly able to believe the words coming out of her mouth, but wasn't it true? She wanted what was best for Aegon. She wanted him to become King. The time had come to accept that she was never meant to be Queen of Westeros, and nothing could change that. "I have heard that Sansa Stark is a beautiful girl…"

"I don't want her, dammit!" Aegon exploded, and that was when Ilyana realised he cared about her as deeply as she cared for him. "I want _you_. That's all I want. If I had things my way, I'd say fuck the lot of them and I'd run away with you…"

"No you wouldn't," Ilyana replied coolly, folding her arms over her chest. "You want to be King too much. You want to live up to the legacy of your ancestors. I can understand that, Aegon. I just wish you wouldn't pretend."

"Pretend what?" His violet eyes were shining with unshed tears. "Pretend that I care for you? That's never been a lie."

Aegon stalked over to Ilyana and she watched him warily, at first uncertain what to expect. Then he fisted a hand in her brown hair and kissed her hard. She grabbed blindly for his shoulders and in that moment neither of them _cared_. For the second time, responsibility and reason were thrown aside for something far more passionate and powerful. She clutched at him and held him against her as though that way, he could forever be in her heart.

Aegon did not bother with being ceremonious. He pushed her up against the bed, hands working impatiently at her clothes and tugging them off until she was naked before him. Ilyana undid his pants and removed his shirt with a similar fervent haste. They toppled onto the bed and Aegon kissed down Ilyana's body, his mouth descending between her legs and causing sensations that made her give a strangled cry of pleasure. She knew that she had to give him up to another woman. But he could be hers, if only for tonight.

Ilyana pulled Aegon to her, tilting her head back as he pushed inside her, his hands finding her hips. This time there was only slight discomfort rather than a piercing pain, and Ilyana instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, her nails finding purchase down his back as he continued to move within her. It was more than just bliss. It was a sense of knowing she would always belong to him, at least some part of her.

Her moans escalated in volume as Aegon's movements increased in speed. He peppered kisses down her neck, across her breasts. Ilyana's hands fisted in his hair and she rocked her hips against him, silently begging for more than he could give her. Even these moments of lust, even the memory of what they had shared, would never be enough for her – but she would survive. She had to.

They were a tangle of arms and legs and nails and kisses. Aegon groaned loudly as he reached his climax, collapsing on top of Ilyana and panting in exertion. She trailed her fingers down his face and her heart broke at the knowledge that this beautiful boy belonged to another. She would give the world for him – but he was the rightful heir to Westeros, and his responsibility came before both of their desires.

"I have a solution," Aegon said, still breathing raggedly as he rolled off Ilyana. It amused her slightly, to know he was thinking of solutions to their problem even during sex. He reached across and smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You could be my mistress."

"Your mistress," Ilyana repeated, her heart sinking ever so slightly. Had he truly meant to insult her so? Would she be his guard by day and his whore by night? She tugged away from him and immediately set about finding her clothes. Aegon watched her, seeming to realise something was wrong.

"Ilyana? Have I offended you?"

"You want me to be your mistress?" She whirled around to face him, eyes burning with anger. Now she wasn't talking to her King, she was talking to a man she loved and who loved her who had scorned her. "You want me to be some shameful secret you keep behind closed doors? I can't do that, Aegon. It would be worse than death."

He frowned. "You're being dramatic, Ilyana. I just wanted to keep some sort of personal – romantic – attachment to you. I would make it public were you not a member of the Kingsguard, you know I would."

"Get out," Ilyana said hoarsely, watching as Aegon angrily tugged on his clothes and exited her tent. She tugged her knees to her chest and held herself tight, as though by doing that it would keep the emotional pieces of herself together. But she failed dismally, for she pressed her face into her hands and cried hysterically, until every part of her hurt, and she wondered if she even had a heart to break anymore.


End file.
